The Assassin's Apprentices
by WBAD
Summary: In a world wrought with suffering because of a tyrannical empire, two warriors must fight. One wants to tear down the walls of Britannia for the sake of the oppressed and his own vendetta. The other only wants freedom, and a life worth living despite the shadow of war and death. Two kindred souls. An oppressive empire. A millennia's struggle between two warring factions.
1. Prologue: The Master in Pendragon

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER: I would just like to say, that I do not own Code Geass or any of its characters in any way, shape, or form (It's Sunrise's and Clamp's). I also don't own any characters from Sarah J Maas. Any ideology pertaining to Assassin's Creed is not mine either (it's Ubisoft's). But references about these three appear in this fanfiction story because it was largely based off of that.**

 **FAIR WARNING: Sensitive and triggering story events are implied or explicitly shown. Said events imply child abuse, human trafficking, underage sex (because there's a high chance of a lemon happening and the characters are below 21 and 18), brutality, violence, and many other adult themes in later chapters.**

 **Other authors' notes will be at the end of the prologue**

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 **Prologue: The Master in Pendragon**

 _Pendragon; Spring of 1784_

CC hated carriages for the reason that it was stuffy. The atmosphere inside of one held the faint stench of animal manure and drying sweat. To be dressed so primly and luxuriously almost felt like a crime within the suffocating walls of haphazardly put together pieces of wooden boards.

Given a choice, she wouldn't have been here. She much preferred gallivanting in fresh green fields with her spirited stallion, Phantom. The thundering of powerful hooves against the earth and the feel of her mount's coarse ebony mane would be a _welcome_ distraction.

Simply put, riding inside a carriage to traipse into the busy town square of Pendragon felt like a joke when her master had ensured she would be fully-trained in horseback riding — _without_ a need for a saddle at that.

It would have been so in an ordinary day. But then again, today _wasn't_ an ordinary day according to the man, was it?

He was to take her into the heart of the city to a special establishment for some _lessons_. About what exactly, CC wasn't sure. But the master had been clear in assuring her that they were lessons every girl should be privileged enough to have. Not everybody got to do it, so she should feel honored…

The prospect had excited her — as any normal girl of her age would be. But the ride to the city was slowly dampening her eagerness. And the next unfortunate face she would look upon would be the receiver of her temperamental mood.

But then again… She didn't need to look far, did she?

A lovely yet mischievous smirk quirked at the corner of her lips as she spared her only companion inside this stupid carriage a glance.

She knew he didn't mind the stale atmosphere of a carriage, but to the boy's credit, he looked as disgruntled and dreadfully _bored_ as _she_ was. He and the master had business to take care of after they dropped her off, so they had both been told.

He caught her staring and tossed her a similarly dastardly smirk…

"Nervous?"

She snorted. "What for?"

Her indignant remark was met with an infuriating chuckle. "Going to 'school' for something had never quite been your taste."

It was meant to be a jab — a sarcastic quip of sorts, but his words made her face visibly fall. He, of all people, knew all too well how uncomfortable she was right now. It showed in the way she carried herself. Despite how used she was to being draped in fine silk and tulle, CC always preferred her training garb which held more room for movement — and an escape if need be (not that the two of them would even _dream_ of considering something as ridiculous as running away).

The Master gave the two of them _everything_ … From rich robes and finely crafted jewelry to the finest of food served individually in their extravagant rooms. And money. He gave them money to spend however they wished when they had done a good job. He treasured and valued them above all of his other assassins, so he said.

His _heirs_ — he called them…

But there were always days when Lelouch preferred dying over training. There were days when he craved the sweet embrace of Hades over the _torture_ (for that was the only word fit to describe his and CC's so-called training) they had to endure.

And yet, if asked if they would run away given the chance, both he and CC knew they wouldn't. (They had plenty of chances already). Not because they were loyal to the Master, but because there was really nowhere else to go.

Blood, murder, and "working in the darkness to serve the light" was the world CC had been brought into from the moment she was born. And Lelouch's personal vendetta against the Imperial Crown was the fire that drove _him_ to endure the suicidal training Arobynn Hammel pushed on _all_ of his initiates.

It just didn't help that he and CC got an extra dose, because they were being bred for rule…or something like that.

Lelouch didn't really care for it, either way. He had already resolved to stay _only_ until he was inducted into the Assassin Brotherhood. Once _his_ Initiate days were deemed complete, he would cater to his own agenda.

But CC, on the other hand, he had yet to ask her… Because as much as he _hated_ the way Arobynn treated them, the boy couldn't deny that he had made friends within the Pendragon Guild. And CC was _one_ — if not the closest — of friends he had. Plus, his room in the manor was far too good to give up…yet.

And today, was just one of the many days where they had to come with the Master to attend to his own business matters. CC's new brand of training in the city — whatever it was — was apparently _good_ for a girl to know. It was nothing like their day to day training, so Arobynn has assured them, but Lelouch didn't trust him.

"You have your weapons, don't you?" He asked in a low voice.

CC's response consisted of revealing a hidden throwing knife sheathed up the silky sleeve of her silk bare-shouldered gown. "One of the many."

And since Lelouch could do nothing more, he simply nodded in reassurance before turning to the window to distract himself once more…

Truth be told, he had wanted to cross the short distance separating their two seats and take her hand to give it a squeeze. They both knew how to fight their way out, but rebelling against the Master's wishes wasn't ideal — not if one didn't want to have dislocated bones or be punished with lacerations that would take _weeks_ to fully heal. (And you weren't excused from cutthroat training, either).

Lelouch didn't want to agitate CC any further, so he simply let her wallow in her thoughts…whatever they were.

It didn't take long before the carriage stopped abruptly, nearly jerking them both off of their seats. There were heavy footsteps thudding on the cobblestones below, and when the door opened, the noise of Pendragon's largest market place invaded the muffled quiet of the coach.

The Master's young and cruelly handsome face appeared before CC, his hand held out in offering. As manners dictate, she accepted and was cordially helped out of the carriage to meet a beautiful lady waiting with two other women at the entrance of a beautiful house.

Lelouch made to follow, but the Master stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"There is no need, my boy. We shouldn't be long."

And just like that, the door was shut on a stupefied Lelouch's face. CC would have laughed in amusement if her nerves weren't so worked up over whatever the hell this was going to be. The boy's face was just priceless.

Nevertheless, CC didn't find it in her to fully pay attention to the overly indulging pleasantries the Master and the strange beautiful lady were saying to each other.

As it is, the women invited them into the house and straight into the foyer. It wasn't as big and cavernous as the manor's, but it was decent. CC couldn't help but let her eyes wander over to the chandelier hanging above them to the numerous finely dressed women lounging around in the room.

They were all staring at her. She didn't flinch and merely held her head high. They can look if they want. CC wasn't a hypocrite and prided herself in having a pretty face. It was that same pretty face Arobynn was careful to inflict damage on. A worthy investment, he said. In fact, anyone within Pendragon's Guild who _dared_ damage her pretty face was severely punished. It was an asset to the Guild, Arobynn said.

Instead, the scars and imperfections she harbored from training were all over her body; some faded to an off-white, others still scabbing over. But all these women could see were her face. Her flawlessly smooth face and lustrous spring green tresses out of their customary fishtail braid.

As the other women within the house gawked — stares ranging from curious to downright envious, the conversation between the Master and Lady Villetta (as she was introduced) moved on from casually speaking about investments to the olive-skinned woman cooing and fawning over Arobynn's daughter's beautiful face.

What a lovely slender figure she was turning out to have. What smooth rosy flawless cheeks. What a slender nose and such sensual lips.

The woman tutted over her slender and spidery hands riddled with calluses, but otherwise complimented her on everything else. Talk over her figure continued as if she was some sort of object being appraised for the Crown's yearly luxury auction. On the other hand, the rest of the women began losing interest and fully averted their attention to gossiping with each other again.

It took a good amount of CC staring offhandedly at a porcelain vase within her field of vision before she was brought out of her reverie by Lady Villetta addressing her.

"My dear, welcome to Lys' pleasure house. We are so happy to have you." The smile she gave CC was catty, and she resisted the urge to flinch beneath the older woman's steely gaze.

Blanching, CC stole a glance at Arobynn to see him smiling before guiding her forward. She hadn't even felt his hand at the small of her back.

This was a pleasure house… Lys' pleasure house. So, when the Master told her she had come here to learn something new, that meant…

Oh god… Oh god _no_ …

"Don't fret, my dear." Arobynn murmured in her ear, patting her shoulder. As if _that_ would be enough consolation over the fact that she was about to be _violated_. "You'll only be having lessons here twice a month. That should be enough to teach you all you need to know about the art of carnal pleasure."

"But Master, I…"

"Now, now, CC. My dear." He spoke to her in that low and deceptively gentle baritone voice that promised punishment if she refused to obey. She wanted to look away, but he held her chin in place. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your master now, would you? It would be a shame to pass up such an opportunity, and after Lady Villetta made such careful arrangements for you, too. I assure you, that no harm will come to you. You might even enjoy in the process of your learning in the long run."

CC bit the inside of her lip as her beautiful bullion eyes became glassy with moisture. The Master ignored this and kept speaking as if he were talking to a frightened animal.

"A warm bath and some venison shall await you at the end of the day." He chided her, but when a slight whimper escaped, Arobynn's eyes hardened. "An assassin of Pendragon Guild does not weep." He hissed, and like a shutter, CC's face schooled itself back to composure — but just barely.

The Master gave her a knowing smile, kissed her cheek as a good stepfather would (albeit lingering a bit too long for CC's comfort), and turned to the Lady of the house.

"I know you will take great care of her and return her to me at sunset, my Lady. But I'm afraid, I must take my leave. I have other business to attend to with my son."

The childish part of her longed to cry out and call to the father she had never known, but the rational side won out, and CC with her lovely face and glassy eyes was left to stare at the lavishly carved wooden door that held her salvation as it closed. She could easily break away and run, but after last night's exercise and after the beating her body had gone through, she just didn't have it in her to receive more punishment — let alone another fifty lashes to her still healing back.

Resigning to her fate, this lovely girl with her stoic face let herself be led away, all the while internally weeping at the loss of precious innocence at the hands of a cruel Guild in a cruel city.

vVvVv

The fireplace roaring in the hearth failed to give him the physical warmth he had been craving. He had tried reading a book — as was his custom before bed, but found that his attention kept wandering elsewhere. Not necessarily elsewhere, but to the image of a hesitant girl dressed in silk being led up to the tacky-looking house.

Needless to say, Lelouch was not pleased when he was flippantly dismissed and the carriage door shut in his face. He didn't particularly think his facial expression was dignified either. CC would laugh, and he was waiting for her to do so, but there's been no word from the others as of yet.

More minutes flew by where Lelouch decided to entertain himself with chess pieces and trying to formulate brand new strategies. He was failing, of course, because his head was elsewhere. He resolved to find her in the manor first thing in the morning as he resigned to retiring in bed.

But his plans to nod off for the night were halted when a timid knock broke the quiet crackling of his nightly fire.

Lelouch already knew who it was before the door was pushed open ever so slightly. His shoulders subconsciously sagging in relief, he took a moment to consider the girl standing at his doorway.

Their nightly visits to each other were common place, something they took to habitually as they grew up in the same place. She would either show up to his room to talk about some things or just play chess, and vice versa. But there was something different about tonight…

The light in her eyes, while usually bright and alive with mischief, were dim. Her carefully composed face hid her emotions, but Lelouch could easily see them clear as day. She was troubled, and it clearly wasn't because of any trivial concern. And in seven years of knowing her, Lelouch shifted to make room before patting the empty space next to where he sat.

CC didn't say a word. But she accepted his offer, and didn't complain when the boy wrapped his skinny arms around her in an effort to console.

As feeble as his hold was, because this was uncharted territory for them both, she found herself weeping again. Tears slowly raced each other down her cheeks, her face blotchy and slightly red as tiny sobs wracked her slender body.

Her body… Oh god…

In her seven years of training underneath the Master's cruel tutelage, she had never before felt so _beaten._ So _ashamed._ So _damaged_.

The physical injuries always healed with time and with salves and medicine. This… This was a whole other territory. Every unspeakable thing they did _to her_ inside that hell house was a brand she couldn't wash off; no matter _how hard_ she scrubbed. Even as her pale skin turned red from too much washing and her healing scars clamored for relief from the wet tub, CC wanted _nothing more_ than to _cleanse_ herself of this _filth_.

Going home after what felt like the longest day in her fourteen years, her relief was short-lived, knowing she had to repeat the same hellish experience in two weeks' time. And at that thought, she bit her lip _hard_ , legs clenching together, and wishing one more time that whatever happened to her today had all been a lucid nightmare.

Even after bathing in a sorry attempt to wash off the unseen grime caking her, she found no form of solace in her lavishly decorated room. In fact, her very bed was a reminder of what she had been _forced_ to go through. She may have consented to the treatment for the sake of choosing a _lesser evil_ , but that didn't mean she _wanted_ it.

No, she didn't want it at all. She sought to find someone — _anyone_.

Her feet led her to the one place in the manor — other than her room — where she could find _some_ form of comfort. And thank the gods for Lelouch Lamperouge.

Sitting there with blinking violet eyes, she had inexplicably rushed to him in search of solace and any form of refuge. A part of her expected him to ask so many questions, and yet another part of her hoped and _hoped_ that he wouldn't ask and just _hold_ her. And CC couldn't be more thankful when her latter wish was granted.

Sobbing and weeping sorrowfully in his unsure arms, CC crumbled… and crumbled… and crumbled until there was nothing left of her; nothing but a soiled and damaged soul…

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 **A/N: Soooo, this fanfiction's a hybrid. A product of my desire to write about Code Geass, because I've never done that before, and assassins... Lots of them. Also, story rating may go up from T to M depending on story progression.**

 **So, let me just leave this here, and I'll upload chapter 1 as soon as I'm done editing it. [Might come back to edit this too, maybe. But for now, I'm quite satisfied with how it turned out]**


	2. The Assassins' Plight

**A/N: First, and foremost, I want to say thank you for the feedback I've received on the prologue so far. :) I'm excited for what this story might possibly unfold in the future too. And I can only hope we can all keep enjoying CC and Lelouch's journey as they go along.**

 **And once again, my blanket disclaimer from the Prologue still stands. [More author's notes at the very end].**

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 **Chapter 1: The Assassins' Plight**

 _Pendragon, Autumn of 1787_

Lelouch stalked through the halls of the Assassins' Manor, dressed in naught but his nightshirt and a robe as lavish as CC's. Worse things had happened within the overtly covert fortress, and he knew full well that a meeting at the _ungodly_ hour of two o' clock in the morning wasn't a big deal, but _damn it_ , he was _actually_ enjoying his slumber for _once_.

Well, the universe _did_ have fanciful ways of biting you in the butt…

The other members of Arobynn's _own_ small council were already present when he had arrived. Their faces ranged from boredom to complete annoyance at being kept waiting. Lelouch hid a smug smirk at their expressions.

 _Served them right for waking_ him _up…_

CC was damn lucky she was away on a dispatch mission, because he knew she would have complained _vocally_ because of this.

And because he was feeling particularly peckish, Lelouch dragged his chair to the table before sitting on it, the scrape of wooden legs against rough hewn stone enough to agitate the other older members of the council.

Arobynn sat at the head of the table — as always, fingers forming a steeple beneath his chin. He would look unnervingly calculating to some as the tension in the chilly room gradually thickened. Thank god one of the older assassins, Todoh, bothered to set fire to the hearth.

"It's practically two in the morning." The seventeen-year old grumbled under his breath, barely suppressing a yawn.

Another man older than Lelouch, Asahina, turned to him with the fire light flashing in his eyes. "If you hadn't been up reading all night, you wouldn't be so exhausted." He snapped irritably.

Lelouch was gracious enough to ignore him _this_ time, and instead resorted to studying the other men gathered around the table. There were seven members of the Master's small council (including him and CC). They were all male, except for CC, of course, and they were far older than the both of them. And from the lined and severe looks on their faces, Lelouch felt a chill that had nothing to do with the predawn Autumn race down his spine.

Face carefully set on neutral, he mentally braced himself for when the Master would speak. From the moment a servant girl knocked on his door to rouse him awake and tell him of this, Lelouch had known that the meeting was going to be important.

You don't exactly come knocking at someone's door at 2AM unless it was an absolute emergency.

Lelouch just hoped it had nothing to do with any of his friends away on missions — especially CC who had been deployed to a mission in the heart of Pendragon to seek out a Templar politician and his group of unruly activists.

"CC's been caught." And there it went when he thought and hoped too soon. Arobynn's face was grave when he finally broke the news. "The Templars were clever, and they've sold her to the Emperor as the one responsible for most of the deaths that occurred in Pendragon this year. She's in the Imperial dungeons."

Concealing his concern, Lelouch bit back the urge to lash out emotionally at these group of men. Another glance at the Master of Pendragon's Guild briefly clued Lelouch in on what Arobynn could be feeling.

Time and time again, the Master had deemed CC as a worthy investment (as if she were nothing more than one of his prized possessions, and in retrospect, she probably was), and losing one of the most valuable of his belongings didn't sit well with Arobynn. And had it been any _other_ assassin from within the Guild, the situation would have been resolved swiftly — no need to call for council meetings at all. To do this meant that they were going to decide CC's fate.

Was it going to be death or a risky rescue operation?

"The Imperial dungeons, eh?" Tamaki, Lelouch's _least_ favorite Guild member quirked an eyebrow at this new piece of information. "Well, she's not going anywhere, that's for sure." The assassin fixed his eyes on Lelouch as he leaned back on his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and spoke the next words that made Lelouch's blood _boil_. "Kill her."

"If that's all there is to it, then this meeting is nothing but a _farce_." Lelouch snarled.

Asahina spoke up and retorted calmly, as if he were speaking to a mentally challenged individual. "The protocol is simple. Send an apprentice to slip something into her prison food. No pain. Just a quiet and mostly peaceful passing. It'd be best to silence her now before she's forced to talk."

Lelouch knew Asahina never liked him _or_ CC. From the moment they had gotten it into their heads to feed his mare candy when they were ten years old, Asahina had been swift to throw a knife at them — looking to hit any of the two. It had been CC who had snatched the flying projectile out of thin air and had hurled it back at the aggressor, slicing his right cheekbone open. And at this very moment, Lelouch was sorely tempted to lash out. If Asahina didn't shut up about killing his friend to silence her, he _swore_ the dagger he had carefully hidden within the folds of his robe's airy sleeves would find a new home in his stupid mouth.

To everyone's credit, the other men seemed to stiffen at Asahina's and Tamaki's bold suggestion, and the dark aura emanating from Lelouch's glower. Every male who resided within the manor knew how much CC mattered to Arobynn and his puffed up pride, despite the insolence he and CC had committed this Summer.

And come to think of it, perhaps rendering Asahina mute _would_ be fitting. That would be ample payback for restraining him two months ago as Arobynn forced Lelouch to watch while he beat CC unconscious because of a lost and failed investment they had both cost him.

He could vaguely recall himself screaming all sorts of profanities then. And the exclamations of mutiny that spilled from his mouth didn't go unpunished either. Arobynn had locked him in the manor's black cells and gave him two hundred lashes on the back for a _month_ (fifty lashes each week).

The polite and mild-mannered assassin, Li Xingke spoke quietly, wary of how their Master would take _his_ suggestions. "To be fair, CC _did_ violate the third tenet of the Creed." The room seemed to still. "In getting caught, she compromises the secrecy of the Assassin Brotherhood."

"And we have no way of knowing if her actions led to breaching the first and second tenet either." Tohdoh pointed out.

All this for a stupid Creed they were _forced_ to uphold.

Lelouch could hear the Master sighing through his nose — a sign of reluctant permission to carry out an order Lelouch dreaded. So before the verdict could be passed, the seventeen-year old shot to his feet, cold amethyst eyes reflecting the fire burning several feet away from the ornate long table.

Staring Arobynn down with defiance unbecoming of his current station, Lelouch _barely_ recognized his own voice as he spoke. "Before you forget, this Guild hasn't recovered from this late Spring's mishap with the Templars from the green hinterlands. And while five assassins may be _expendable_ to _you_ , CC doesn't fall under that label!"

Seething, he forced his fists to clench if only to keep himself from pulling out a dagger to _murder_ Arobynn. He wouldn't leave this room alive if he did.

"And for the sake of what we call a _brotherhood_ ," Lelouch nearly spat in rage, "CC's life matters because _she_ is an _apprentice_ directly under _you_. Do you hold absolutely no regard for any of your men? Her prowess in the battlefield is yet to be matched"

The Master's eyes were blank hard chips of cement gray as he stared the boy _down_ — as if he were no more than a fly. "That so-called prowess does not make for much when she easily fell victim to a trap she could have evaded." He continued in an eerily calm voice that only fanned the roaring flames of Lelouch's wrath. "And after your actions have cost me dearly this Summer, the _both of you_ have yourselves to blame for provoking me to _rethink_ your value as _my_ apprentices and this Guild's assassins."

Lelouch had no desire to resurrect an argument that was on the verge of dying, but he _definitely_ wasn't going to sit on his ass waiting around for something that wasn't likely to happen. They were _practically_ in favor of _killing her_. His best friend.

Growling, Lelouch's glare only intensified as he struck his bargain.

"Alone, it's near impossible to salvage a prisoner from the Imperial dungeons. But _let me do it_. Let me retrieve CC, and if I fail, let that be the end of me. I won't come out alive anyway."

There was a brief moment of silence that festered across the men. Lelouch took that for a good sign, because that means everybody — including their so-called Master — was weighing the pros and cons of this _ridiculous_ bargain. Even _Lelouch_ knew he had more to lose than to gain from this seemingly foolhardy task he had set for himself.

But then again, he was not Pendragon's most notorious and conniving assassin for nothing…

"You're a naive boy who's after a foolish errand that will do you more harm than good." Arobynn finally spoke. And when that feral grin stretched across his mouth, Lelouch knew he had won _this_ gambling round. "But I suppose nothing else would be a more _fitting_ lesson for insolent _children_ such as yourselves."

Later, when Lelouch stepped out of the manor to make good on his promise, not a single secret killer stood in his path.

vVvVv

 _3 Days Later…_

After spending hours on end, sleeping and _practically_ living in a musty cell with manacles on her wrists and ankles, CC wasn't surprised when an Imperial guard roughly ushered her out of her holding cell into the _ridiculously_ bright hallways of the Imperial Palace.

She'd wager enough of her hard earned money that she was about to be taken before the Emperor and his court, so a confession could be wrung out of her.

"So, where are am I headed?" She asked nonchalantly, stealing a few glances at the man with his blue hair and ridiculously lavish cape.

He stood to her left. There were two guards to her right — all heavily armed, and there were three stalking behind her with their spears and thin lightweight swords strapped to their hips. It was quite an entourage, if she would say so herself. If she wasn't a deadly assassin, she would have found this fearsome. But in her books, it was actually quite flattering.

 _Six_ heavily armed men to _try_ to keep her in line…

Though she was bone weary, CC couldn't help but smirk haughtily, lifting her chin just a little higher at the thought.

"This may surprise you, but I'm _still_ a lady no matter how _undignified_ I look right now." If her wrists weren't chained, she would have flipped her lovely hair.

The other guards were disciplined enough to ignore her preening, but the man to her left — their Captain, she assumed — acknowledged her the tiniest bit by giving her a sidelong glance. She would have goaded them some more had they not arrived before a set of giant wooden doors whose carvings were inlaid with gold.

After two polite knocks, and a mild mannered call to enter, they brought her in. And the sight from within this equally extravagant study tickled her curiosity so much, she didn't speak a word to ruin her chances. Let the Prince do most of the talking.

She was acquainted briefly with Schneizel el Britannia before — about a year ago, during one of her undercover missions to aristocratic soirees. The Prince eyed her carefully and gave her a tender smile, one that was quite ill-fitting for this situation.

"Who would've thought that the lovely young lady I had the pleasure of meeting so many months ago would be one of Pendragon's fiercest assassins?"

So he remembered her, after all…

There was a hint of hidden laughter in his pale gray eyes, and CC resisted the urge to flinch. Coming from somebody else, the word _fierce_ used to make her proud. But for some unknown reason, when _Schneizel_ said it, it sounded more like he was _mocking_ her; not even taking her seriously.

Couldn't they just get to the point?

Resisting the urge to snarl, CC schooled herself to keep a leveled temper. "To what do I owe this honor, Your Highness?"

"You're quite mild-mannered." Schneizel complimented, eyeing her carefully as a muscled twitched in her jaw. "A far cry from what my adviser has told me."

Her annoyance was his twisted sort of pleasure, it seemed. She watched as the First Prince of Britannia flashed her a stunning smile, one that reeked of court-trained charm. In her defense, she wasn't above using the same tactic to mentally disarm an opponent before a fight, but charm only went as far as a person's gullibility. It was _useless_ at times, and only ever truly worked if you were as _naturally gifted_ with mind-numbing charisma like Lelouch. Honestly, that boy's sweet words worked on almost _everyone_. _Almost_. (They never worked on her — or so she'd like to think).

"I'm pleased your adviser gave you _such a lasting impression_ of me." The sarcasm in her remark didn't go unnoticed. And a quick glance at the Captain of the Guard revealed that he was irked that such a lowly citizen such as herself would even _dare_ talk down on Britannia's most-loved Prime Minister.

Schneizel's short burst of amused laughter made everyone nigh uncomfortable, but CC only snorted.

"I believe we are overdue for short introductions. I am Schneizel el Britannia, his majesty's humble son and daring enough to ensure His Grace's ambitions reach fruition."

So he was an Imperial lap dog, basically. How quaint…

"And you are simply CC — as you prefer to be called. One of Pendragon's — perhaps even the world's — greatest assassins. The Witch to the Warlock of Britannia." The Prince didn't even _dare_ mask the faux reverence he had for _that_ title.

To be fair, neither CC and Lelouch nor the Assassins' Guild came up with the name. If anything, it was almost a taboo term — shared and whispered among courtesans, harlots, merchants, mercenaries, and every other citizen within the walls of the Crown City.

The Assassins and the Templars were two secretly overt organizations cloaked in the normalcy of society. There were some who would even hazard a guess that the world's greatest events were triggered by either of the two factions (and they would be partly right). And because of that _hushed_ notoriety, it couldn't be helped when certain identities would rise in prominence above the rest.

Hushed murmurs of Lelouch's popularity as an assassin began when he was fourteen. Report of a powerful Britannian noble known for his sleazy investments using citizens' tax money was found dead in his bedchamber by one of his man servants. The blame would have passed to _someone_ else, but Lelouch had left a tell tale wound on the noble's left palm. A symbol — a phonetic letter — carved into the supple flesh with a dagger.

The arrogant boy did it for every dispatch mission afterwards, and even _she_ had been surprised that Arobynn didn't discourage the behavior. It was a mark. It was Lelouch leaving _one_ bread crumb for the world to find and puzzle over.

Every dispatch mission of his built a brand around a quick and clean stab through the heart followed by that symbol he would carve into their skin. And because the morbid representation resembled an ancient hieroglyphic image for the word 'warlock' in the old tongue, itwas what the elderly citizens began to call him, and it _stuck_.

CC's popularity, on the other hand, rose because of her biological gender. A female assassin with long hair tied in a delicate braid and wrapped thoroughly in ribbons of black silk.

"So, an _assassin._ " Schneizel continued his conversational tone; as if they were discussing cake ingredients over afternoon tea. "A life of working in the shadows to serve the light." No, she didn't like the way he paraphrased _that_ part of an Initiate's oath to the Brotherhood, either. But Schneizel either didn't notice she was peeved or he was _deliberately_ goading her. "You will have to forgive my brashness, CC. But your chosen occupation makes me wonder. Do the scars in your body disappear back into the skin, or do they mark you for life?"

Eyebrows disappearing behind their bangs, her demeanor quickly shifted from bewilderment to impossibly mischievous. CC simply shrugged, testing how far the Prince would go. She had no idea _why_ he asked about her scars, but he had a reason — obviously. You didn't exactly go around asking about these obscure things unless you had intentions involving them.

Schneizel appeared thoughtful before he gestured for the guards — other than the Captain — to leave, or wait outside the door. That was a _bad_ idea. The peons followed without question, and when the door shut behind the last of them, Schneizel addressed her again.

"Turn around. I need to see your back."

CC frowned, but she obeyed. Through her peripheral vision, she watched as Schneizel squinted at what he could make out of her back through the torn scraps of her shirt. He must be having a hard time, considering the minimal amount of the light the chandelier above provided. It was evening apparently. (Yes, she just realized).

Schneizel moved and slowly circled her, stepping within strangling distance. He was practically _begging_ for death if he was blatantly disregarding his safety like this.

"I suppose the scars can't be helped. You've led a life of a vigilante so far. What more could I have expected?" His sigh was almost melancholic. "I suppose we'll just have my brother Clovis' team of designers to tailor dresses for you."

The frown already marring CC's face deepened. "Dresses?" She cocked an eyebrow a him as she tried to ignore the way Schneizel was _scrutinizing_ her; like she was some bug stuck in a jar.

His gray eyes scanned her face, and CC caught sight of the Captain of the Guard reaching for the sword strapped to his belt. She mentally applauded the man's line of thinking. Because the Prince _really was_ in danger. She had half-a-mind to wrap these chains around his neck and crush his windpipe within seconds. But CC wasn't stupid, and she wasn't about to dig herself into deeper piles of manure that she was already swimming in — both figuratively and _literally_ (the black cells were teeming with the atrocious stuff).

"Such livid eyes and a _hateful_ face!"

She'd had enough. Anymore dallying, and she'd _really_ follow through in her unbecoming plans. Her self-control was at an all-time low at the moment, and her temper was in danger of falling off of the edge of a cliff. If Schneizel _truly_ recognized what she was capable of, he'd know to stop playing wordy cat-and-mouse games with her.

"I _demand_ to know—" She barely took a step forward when a near bone-dislocating force yanked her back.

"You do _not_ touch his royal Highness." He seethed, baring his teeth at her in a threatening manner. It didn't faze her; just piled on to her annoyance some more.

Stumbling, CC took a moment to _glower_ at the Captain. "I wasn't going to kill him, you jackass!"

"Watch your mouth, before I'll have you shipped off to the mines!"

Her annoyance melted into a sly smile that irked just about anyone — especially Lelouch. "Oh, I don't think you'd _dream_ of doing that."

"And what makes you say so?" The Captain narrowed his eyes at her, inwardly begrudging the fact that the girl was actually right.

Schneizel's amused face did them no favors as he leisurely strode to his waiting chair behind the study desk. When he was seated again behind the barrier of his desk like some coward, she tilted her chin upwards just the tiniest bit as she spoke.

"Because there's something that you want from me. And you want it _badly_ enough to release me momentarily from my cell. I may have been foolish enough to commit the mistake of walking into a trap, but I'm not an idiot. Obviously, this is some sort of secret business. Otherwise, you would have brought me before the _entire_ Britannian court to face judgment from the Emperor himself." The mirth glimmering in Schneizel's eyes matched the dangerous glint coming off of hers. "And because you summoned me here in the dead of night, then I believe I have the right to demand to know _why_. What do you want from me, since I'm obviously not destined for the gallows?"

"I have a proposition for you." Schneizel explained.

And at his words, CC could feel her chest tighten. Surely whatever proposition a Prince of Britannia could offer would be as good as gold. Who knows, it might even be enough to pay off the debts Arobynn forced on her as she grew up? And if it wasn't going to be money, then it would have had to do something with freedom in exchange for a favor. And the heavens knew _how much_ CC had been longing for the _taste_ of freedom for _years_.

CC cocked an eyebrow, her entire demeanor changing into a well-behaved and proper young lady — despite the grime and the dirt. "I'm listening."

vVvVv

The morning that followed the explosive argument in the Assassins' Lair brought Lelouch stalking through the heart of the city under the disguise of a stable boy taking the time to stroll in between his working shifts. On a normal day, he would have dressed properly, but during those moments, his thoughts were focused solely on CC. And for once, even his plans for overthrowing the Emperor of Britannia were at a standstill until he retrieved his irritating friend who had gotten herself in trouble. (Not that she had a choice).

Within his three day period of watching and biding his opportunity, the Warlock of Britannia had bribed his way for decent information, and stalked the edges of the palace walls' outer gate, watching the guards as they switched shifts thrice a day — dawn, noon, and evening. Scaling the tops of noblemen's houses and the edges of the outer gates taught him which entrances and exits to conveniently take. He had found his main path to the dungeons on the second day of scouting thanks to a milkmaid telling him the way when he had gone undercover. He had lied about bringing a message to the jail warden then.

Three days had been more than enough time to properly prepare. A simple-minded and impatient fool would have grabbed at a cheap chance to commence the retrieval operation, but Lelouch knew where he stood. He was going to be alone with no backup and had a slim chance of surviving the fatal consequences if he was caught. Only one shot, and he had to do it right. He could only pray that CC hold on just a little longer and not be _too_ mad at him for taking extra measures to make sure all the conditions were cleared.

Thus, after much planning and stalking, Lelouch finally found himself waiting and wandering close to the outer palace walls at twilight. Dressed in the sleek form-fitting gear he reserved for high-profile missions, the assassin waited in the shadows between the outer keep and the outer gate. Darkness eventually settled, torches were lit, and as the guard atop the first lower parapet turned his back to let the night watch do their jobs, Lelouch slipped past.

His fingers easily found purchase in the minute crevices in the walls that he had studied yesterday. In less than a minute, he had landed soundlessly back on the ground, careful to disturb the scattered straws of hay at his feet. But then again, the guards in these parts of the castle were far too complacent. They hadn't seen war in the homeland yet, so they were as lax as training dummies.

It was almost a joke; the way he slipped like wind past them all. Even the brightly lit torches failed to illuminate his presence when he finally made it within the inner walls, past the training grounds where the Crown's squires and pages practiced during the day, and finally into the first floor of the dungeon — where most of the jail guards' quarters were, and where the warden spent most of his day time hours.

The second floor prison cells were for petty criminals waiting trial before the Emperor's court. If found guilty, they would be either shipped off to Euro-Britannia to serve out their lives in prison or the mines in the far east — in Britannia's newest colony.

The last prison floor, however, was for the sole purpose of containing the Crown's enemies, rebels, and other dangerous people that posed a threat to the royal family's well-being. At the thought of the royal family _and_ CC being strapped down on one of those infamous cells, Lelouch could feel the bile stirring in his gut.

How was she? The moment they leave this place, he wasn't going to take her anywhere near the manor. His hidden apartment in the city would be sufficient enough to house her and keep her safe as she healed from yet another set of injuries. Even the servants he had encountered and spoken to casually the days before tonight knew and speculated about the horrors that went on in the Black Cells. Perhaps the most exaggerated, but not entirely impossible, of stories was the dismemberment of certain body parts to wring a confession out of the prisoners.

Lelouch conveniently skipped the the second tier prison, because, in all truth, it would only house the common robber, the thief, or somebody cheating a noble at gambling. No, CC's failed mission spoke volumes on the crime she would commit. It was murder. They _had_ to have housed her in the Black Cells.

Inaudibly, he made his way through the narrow stone stairs so weathered he would have slipped if he weren't agile. The passageway opened up into a hall of decent size but lit with only two torches. The lights were also situated far enough from the _actual_ cells that it left the rest of the room cloaked in pitch black.

There was a myriad assortment of smells too; ranging from iron to a more pungent combination of smells. He was wearing a thick black mask across his nose and mouth, but even he wouldn't lie and say the stench was absolutely overpowering. It made plenty of sense for the Black Cells to be in this condition — give as much discomfort to its heinous prisoners.

But to think of CC somewhere in here…

Not even bothering to calm the thundering beat of his racing heart, Lelouch made quick work of the first few cells he could shine a light on. They weren't empty. There were darker smudges along the floor, rats, cockroaches, and clumps of dirty hay all over the cells. There was even one where a bucket of human filth was collecting flies and maggots. And of course there would be human bones in here.

From one cell to the next, each sight more stomach-turning than the last, but he couldn't find her…

Part of his mind drifted to the useless bone remains of a human being in one of the cells, but that couldn't be her.

She'd only been here for a _few days_. She couldn't have decayed that quickly if they killed her.

Unless they used a solvent powerful enough to rid the bones of her flesh. Unless they were mindful enough to pick her out clean after they killed her.

Unless they burned her alive…

Eyes wide with panic, Lelouch genuinely felt himself _sway_ on the spot. And for a brief moment, he considered surrendering himself to Britannia's own disgusting brand of justice just to die. Because he had failed her…

There was a long moment of silence in his own mind, where he could have sworn he just _literally_ shut down.

But no. When he came to his proper senses again, Lelouch only realized he had been staring off into the stone ceiling lined with cobwebs for maybe a minute or two — like a lack-wit. In the brief expanse of a mental breakdown, his mind had worked to conjure the most heinous manners of death.

But shouldn't she have a trial first?

Britannia's justice was _rotten_ , but even so, they liked to make spectacles of themselves before the public, proclaiming that they were right and good. It doesn't matter if the masses were being cheated or if people were being forced into slavery or _discriminated_ and oppressed. Britannia was always right — would always be superior. Britannia will always strut around masquerading as an angel of light when her rulers were the source of darkness.

It wouldn't be impossible to deem CC guilty and leave her for dead…

But then again…

Regaining himself for a moment, Lelouch closed his eyes and focused on inwardly stepping back from the clutter of his muddled mind. Objective reasoning was what he needed right now.

They could also have had her sent to Europia, or the Far East.

But first thing's first… He needed an assurance that she was alive.

And since he couldn't very well stride into the Palace Court and demand for his answers, he realized he would have to play detective for a while.

That meant returning to the sight of her last mission and seeking out the men who had captured and sold her to the Emperor.

Objectively speaking, there _is_ a possibility of her being dead at this very moment. But when looking into things wisely, he really _had_ nothing to lose if he sought her out anyway. CC's death was the failure of his self-imposed mission, and going back to Arobynn empty-handed with words of a failed operation (especially if said operation wasn't even official, and was one simply made for the sake of proving a point) could only entail something far worse.

So he could either _presume_ she was dead, mourn for her, move on, and consequently ignore the other possibility of her being still alive. Or he could work quickly to uncover the truth now, so the perpetrators could pay for the death of his dear friend.

Two options…

And because Lelouch never really _was one_ for accepting something unless he had all the proof in his hands. Dead or alive, he was going to find her.

It was time to pay Chief Templar Ruther Stadtfeld a visit…

* * *

 **A/N: So... Kallen's father's name. It's never mentioned in Code Geass. I had to make one up.**

 **Review replies:**

 **Shiranai Atsune: Thank you! I'm glad that you think so. I'll work hard to make sure it's as interesting for me and for everyone until the end.**

 **Patjeeson: Yes, Lelouch was seven when Arobynn found him. He and CC are the same age.**

 **FataLInfluence0: Haha! I was actually going to follow through with this story wondering if anyone would recognize Sarah J Maas and her ingenious characters. And you won't believe how thrilled I was when I read your review. I love _Throne of Glass_ too. It's a masterpiece! *0* And yes, you can rest assured that Lelouch won't be like Sam at all. He'll be fine. ;)**

 **Also, side note: I honestly didn't want Arobynn Hamel anywhere in here, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of a single Code Geass character who would perfectly fit Arobynn's characteristics, and the role he plays in CC's and Lelouch's life. But anyways...**

 **A large THANK YOU** **to everyone who put this story on alert and for leaving reviews.**

 **As always, chapter 2 will be up when it's ready. See you~**


	3. The Ace of the Fighting Pits

**A/N: I'm gonna be honest… I thought this chapter was going to be filler. But A LOT happened. And I guess it's not. So there…**

 **Blanket disclaimer from the Prologue still stands. I don't own any references to books, anime, or video games.**

 **Thank you for the reads, story alerts, favorites, and the feedback I've received so far…**

 **More author's notes at the end…**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Ace of the Fighting Pits**

" _I can only presume that you think I'm a fool when I had my guards leave so we could speak to each other in peace."_

" _I'm glad I don't have to point out every single truth."_

 _Schneizel only smiled at her insolent quip and shuffled a pile of papers off to the side of his large desk._

" _You have a nerve to be so bold with me when your freedom and your pardon are_ clearly _at stake." Schneizel's haunting gray eyes twinkled in the dim light of the chandelier hanging above the room._

" _My freedom?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow._ And _her pardon. So she had been right to presume._

 _He ignored her words as if she hadn't voiced a single thought and continued. "Though I suppose that arrogance would be a bit of an asset. I was never one to fool myself into thinking that my father's empire was built on trust and goodwill. But I'm sure you're well aware of that…" He paused for a moment, building so much suspense that CC's fingers curled where they were pressed to her sides. "My father has gotten it into his head that he needs a Champion."_

 _She shouldn't have laughed at the_ absurdity _of the word, but CC tipped back her head and cackled with unrestrained glee anyway._

" _Let me get this straight." Clearing her throat but still chuckling at the proposition_ and now _the Captain's and the Prince's irked faces, she continued, "The ruler of_ the Holy Britannian Empire _wants_ me _— a killer about to be tried for her crimes — to be his 'Champion'?" She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "Please don't tell me he's accidentally gotten rid of_ every _noble soul in this rotten world. He has his Knights of the Round Table._ Surely, _they're enough, yes?"_

" _Watch your mouth!" The Captain snarled, his fingers clenching around the hilt of his sword again._

 _Schneizel leaned back in his chair, still appraising her with that calculating gaze she was beginning to hate with every passing second. He let her talk and he never took the bait. That was annoying._

" _The twelve Knights of the Round serve a different purpose. Their main responsibilities involve overseeing military operations and escorting the Empire's important dignitaries. The Emperor's Champion, on the other hand, is akin to His Majesty's personal sword. He'll need you to maneuver around… difficult people."_

" _Why can't you just come outright and say that he needs a lackey for his dirty work? Or that he needs an executioner he can easily dispatch to gods know where?" CC raised her eyebrows. "A lackey that, might I add, is capable of tasks a squeaky clean Knight of the Round can't fulfill." The grin she flashed Schneizel was one of her more irritating ones._

" _Putting it brashly and bluntly, yes. That is what it amounts to." The Prince nodded in agreement, glancing at her chains that rattled with each restrained gesture she_ tried _to make._

 _She rolled her eyes again. "Of course it is. His Knights are symbols of his so-called justice. Wouldn't want to stain their pretty white robes now, would you?"_

" _One more mutinous word out of you and you lose your chance." The Captain seethed behind her. And while she was mindful enough to take his words into account, she still pretended to ignore him — or that his words failed to faze her._

 _Schneizel cleared his throat. "Ideally, his Champion would keep his stubborn enemies silent."_

" _As silent as the grave." CC crooned._

 _The Prince flashed her his charming smile. "Yes."_

 _From the moment she realized that the world they were born into wasn't a gentle place, CC had grown to hate the Empire's ways and its judgments. Hell, she and Lelouch often dreamed about changing their world together as superheroes when they were children. But while that was a childish ambition, CC knew Lelouch's solemn promise to_ obliterate _Britannia wasn't._

 _Growing up, CC had had a habit of living in the worst and making the best out of it, but her best friend was an idealist. And often, he made her visualize what could be better. To this day, CC was aware that Lelouch was making good on his promises. She had sworn to help him long ago, and for her, that meant opposing the Empire that had them all enslaved — in varying degrees._

 _So, to_ work _for the Emperor; to be that executioner. To_ kill _for him and be an instrument of many innocent people's deaths… She might as well go full-blown Rogue if it_ truly _came to that. The Brotherhood may very well disown her_ anyway _, once the word got out._

 _But freedom… and pardon. Freedom from Arobynn and her enforced debt. Freedom in so many ways depending on how this deal would go._

" _If I accept?"_

" _Your services will be required for six years._ Then, _he'll grant you absolute and unrestrained freedom."_

" _Six years?!" Her eyes could have popped right out of their eye sockets. But she never expected the word "freedom" to resonate so strongly in her soul._

" _Decline and you're destined for the gallows. As you should be."_

 _Life or death… Living, even if it was in the servitude of a cruel master, would still be life. CC knew that if she were another person; if she were as noble as some of the Emperor's twelve knights, she would have refused. A smirk curled on her lips…_

 _Then wasn't it fortunate that she was neither noble nor a puritan knight?_

 _Being an assassin was a paradox, but she wouldn't have chosen differently._

" _However," Schneizel held up a hand, so he could explain first. "There_ is _a catch." She waited with slightly bated breath as the Prince toyed with his fountain pen. "This position isn't being_ offered _to you_. _Yet." At the slight frown starting to mar her pretty face, Schneizel kept explaining. "Because the Emperor figures that Britannia and its nobility needs a bit of entertainment, he's hosting it as a competition. My father has invited his seven small council members to each sponsor a would-be Champion. They would be trained and housed within the Royal Palace. It's a Battle Royale. Ultimately, two or three competitors — depending on the outcome of the games — will duel in the final stage." He gave her a half-smile._

" _And who exactly_ are _my competitors?"_

" _Thieves, warriors, assassins across Britannia and its colonies." Schneizel waved a hand flippantly. She was about to speak, but he cut her off without much preamble this time. "If you win — consequently proving your skill and your trustworthiness, my father has_ sworn _to grant you your freedom. And of course, as his Champion, you will receive considerable salary."_

 _His fingers clasped, he raised his brows at her, awaiting her ideal response. She wanted to retort that his father's words weren't exactly_ clear _. What kind of freedom? There were different types. Freedom through death wasn't an appealing prospect._

 _CC kept ignoring the chafing around her wrists and the way the Captain of the Guard was keeping a hawk's eye on her. "It seems to me that while you nobles have all your fun, this whole competition is completely unnecessary. Why not just hire me immediately?"_

" _Your trustworthiness must be proved." Was the very simple answer._

 _CC lifted her chin just a teeny bit. "In your own words,_ Prince, _I am '_ the Witch _to the Warlock of Britannia.' Based on my own track record, that title is worth any sort of proof you might need."_

" _Yes," the Captain agreed, his mouth twisting into a cruel sneer. "Your wretched title proves that you're a criminal worthy of a death sentence, and that we shouldn't immediately trust you with the Emperor's business."_

" _I swear on my own future grave and I give my solemn oa—"_

" _I doubt His Majesty would take the word of an assassin as sufficient bond."_

 _CC shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright, but why me? Why not track down the Warlock of Britannia and get him to participate in your little competition instead?"_

 _Schneizel raised an eyebrow, silently asking her if she thought he was stupid. "Your capture is an opportunity I don't intend to forfeit. And contracting the Warlock of Britannia will require me to expend resources I don't find the need to waste." He gave her a sly smile. "Unless, of course, you can point me in his direction and refuse my offer."_

" _Even if you tried to torture an answer out of me, you won't get anything. I've never even seen him." CC made a disappointed face, pouting childishly and looking_ exactly _like an immature brat who was forbidden from seeing their life-long idol; although a part of her silently crowed at how_ smooth _her lie was. On the contrary, she_ knew _this Warlock like the back of her hand._

" _That's what they all say until the torture begins." The Captain commented nonchalantly beside her._

 _Nevertheless, Schneizel looked like he didn't believe her, but he let the suspected lie slide as he focused on the more important things. He meant it when he said he didn't have the resources to spare. In truth, the First Prince_ had _been trying to track the Warlock of Britannia. He had been doing so for a month. The designated day to present the Champion candidates to the Emperor was the day after tomorrow._

 _Thankfully, Lady Luck had seen it fit to deliver the renowned assassin's worthy equivalent to the palace's many doorsteps. The Witch would be just as good._

" _So, CC, are you going to take the offer?" Schneizel's expression was thoughtful, with a hint of mirth somewhere._

"Of course _I'll take the offer." She snapped. And her wrists chafed badly against the manacles that she could swear her eyes almost watered. "I'll be your stupid Champion_ if _you agree to free me in three years,_ not six. _"_

 _Schneizel appeared thoughtful, and she sincerely wanted to rake her jagged nails down his unsoiled face. He nodded slowly, still contemplating. "Doable. Not three though. Four."_

" _Fine," she would have gestured with her hand, but she didn't. "It's a bargain."_

 _She didn't know how else to describe Schneizel's grin. Despite the dim lighting, his rows of pearly white teeth were kind of blinding._

" _The details of the competition will be made clear when you stand with your other competitors. I have every confidence that you will live up to your reputation. Winning this bet should be fairly simple with you as my candidate."_

" _And what happens if I lose?"_

 _Schneizel gave her that dismissive wave again. "You won't be alive to find out anyway."_

 _The flippant way he just referred to putting her to death should have fazed her or perhaps triggered a nervous reaction out of her, but CC was numb. After years of looking death in the eye each time she trained with Arobynn, every time she was sent to that pleasure house to 'learn,' or was in the receiving end of his cruelty, she could have cared less, to be honest._

 _So, she merely shrugged. "That's fair enough."_

" _Indeed." He agreed with a nod, and addressed the Captain afterwards. "Jeremiah, take her and do as planned. Leave for Aries Villa immediately. We need to get her ready."_

" _Yes, Your Highness."_

 _CC tuned the rest of it out as they led her through the palace hallways again, but in a different direction — not to the main entrance, but perhaps one of the side doors where he could spirit her away to Aries Villa in the dead of night. Still in manacles, CC didn't put up a fight when they roughly hauled her into a carriage — looking worse for wear — to leave the grounds of the Royal Palace._

 _Her wandering thoughts drifted to her current situation instead, and how her life was going to change course yet again. Her only reluctance laid on Lelouch._

 _Nodding to herself, she resolved to find a way to send him a raven with her message. Or find a Pigeon Coop somewhere to_ leave _a paper written in code for him, telling him that she was fine and that he leave her be for a while — no matter what kind of news spread around the manor._

 _And she figured she'd been living with Arobynn and his abuse for seventeen years. It was time for a change — albeit an unpleasant one, but it was the lesser of the two evils. When she would win this_ joke _of a competition, she would only be bound for four more years — a definite number, and much better than the inevitable._

Yes, she was definitely capable of waiting for sweet freedom a little bit longer. It was worth it…

vVvVv

Being the daughter of a rich nobleman had its privileges. There was the food, the luxury, the endless time occupied with entertainment and leisure.

Or at least… That's what everyone liked to think.

On the contrary, Kallen Stadtfeld _loathed_ her life as a nobleman's daughter. _Scratch that_ — a nobleman's _illegitimate_ daughter. She may partake of the luxuries provided by her father's aristocratic lifestyle, but her future wasn't as bright as she'd like to imagine. Because as far she was concerned, this way of living was only available to her if the man who sired her continued to live. Should he die, his wealth would undoubtedly pass over to his legal wife and his legal daughter — Kallen's half-sister gallivanting in Euro-Britannia while attending a prestigious educational institution for young noble women.

And gods knew the two Britannian women didn't give a s*** about her.

If she was going to be completely honest, she _detested_ having bodyguards around, watching her every move 24/7. But her survival, at the moment, was dependent on her father's living breath, so Kallen didn't find it in her to vocally complain at the lack of complete privacy in the house.

Why, if it weren't for her alerting the guards to the assassination attempt that had happened four days ago, they wouldn't have set up a trap for the killer that had stalked into the house, ready to eradicate her father. The only bit of information she had managed to glean from her father's main bodyguard, Ralph, was that the assassin had been female and that she was turned over to the Crown to receive justice for her attempt at murder.

Kallen had three dark secrets...

The first was that she wouldn't have mourned if her father had been killed that night. He was as power-hungry and two-faced as any politician could get. She was never fond of his lascivious ways, and his inexplicable taste for debauchery. Kallen was even surprised that her stepmother could turn a blind eye to it. She held no care for the full-blooded Britannians in her so-called family.

But if there was one person she truly cared about, it was her mother. Her mother living far far away — in the far eastern colony of Britannia, Nippon.

And there was her second dark secret. The only reason she resolved to stay in her father's household and not run away was to amass enough funds to take with her when she would finally journey away from Pendragon to travel to the place where she truly wanted to be — by her mother's and her brother's side. The money was so they could build a new life. She wanted to give the woman who birthed her the life she deserved.

Given a choice, Kallen wouldn't even _want_ to live in Britannia. She was perfectly content to stay in her motherland of sprawling green hills and beautiful sakura trees. She was _stolen_ from her home when the man who sired her came one day and took her from her _real_ family.

Kallen could still remember her mother sobbing at her father's feet, begging that he wouldn't take her only girl away. But the man she called her sire had been ruthless. He didn't have a child then, and was in need of an heir. So with his political power, he sought Kallen's mother out — even from across the _world_ — and _stole_ the child he abandoned when the woman had been pregnant with her.

Of course, fate had a way of screwing with you. Because a year after taking Kallen from her home, Ruther's Britannian wife fell pregnant, and the man had his _legal_ heir after all.

Both Kallen and her half-sister, Rosalind, were bred and raised with the finest governess. But Kallen wasn't foolish or blind when it was so evident that Ruther was raising Rosalind into something more. Obviously, the Britannian girl was the favored out of the two. From the dresses to the manner of education. Kallen was home-schooled with a private tutor. Rosalind was sent to an academy for girls in Pendragon and then Euro-Britannia to learn all that she could and have an active social life.

She didn't belong here from the start. Kallen knew that. She wasn't after her father's affection either. She knew he didn't hold a sliver when he abandoned her before she was even born.

Now that she was steadily growing into a young woman with each passing day, her father and stepmother cared less and less about what she did with her time and who she spent it with.

They largely left her to her own devices, which led to the last of Kallen's dark secrets…

A year ago, Kallen had discovered Babel Tower — the house of Pendragon's underworld — where she met men like Ohgi, assassins like Tamaki, and brothel investors like Viletta.

Despite its imposing name, Babel Tower wasn't even a tower or a glorious fortress. The name was a mockery for the tower in the North of the Empire, erected by a proud lord but didn't survive the battle when Britannia's forces came knocking at his door.

Babel Tower in Pendragon, however, was just a two-storey establishment between the rich and the dirt poor part of the city. A tavern would greet you upon entrance on the first floor. The upper level held a huge room divided by feeble barriers made of wood. It housed the filthy beds and the prostitutes looking to make a profit with their bodies.

But the underground was what had held Kallen's _true_ attention…

Babel Tower's underbelly housed the Vaults — the infamous location of the underground fighting pits, the wide gambling arenas, and a haunt for Pendragon's most _dangerous_ denizens. Rumor had it the Crime Lord was known to invest in the business of Babel Tower as well.

The underground fighting pits were open to any challenger from the crowd and the Vaults' contracted fighters — pay per fight _plus_ tips tossed from the generous onlookers.

During the day time and in the presence of her 'family', Kallen played the role of a feeble and meek girl submissive to her parents' every beck and call. _That_ was Kallen Stadtfeld. But when darkness settled and the Vaults would come alive, she shed her daytime facade like a second skin — metaphorically.

Kallen Kozuki — one of the fighting pits' contracted fighters and a favorite among the patrons — would step into the arena to beat the living daylights out of any man who would _dare_ undermine her for being a young woman. Any challenger who had underestimated her had paid _dearly_ for that mistake.

Combining the money from the Vaults and the generous allowance her father let her have, it would only be a year more before she would save enough money to leave this festering hole _for good_.

But at the moment, it was 7PM…

There were no challengers to fight yet, no man sleazy enough to approach her out of the blue. And she could just enjoy her mug of warming ale. The Vaults didn't come alive until after nine in the evening. But even so, she had seen it fit to don her lightweight armor. Just in case.

You never actually knew in a place like this…

Swishing the amber liquid around the mug before downing the last of its contents, Kallen surveyed the number of people trudging in from the upstairs. She could spot a few of the regulars and the occasional dead drunk man who wandered into the Vaults looking for a fight.

And of course, there were a lot of important people trying to disguise their identities by wearing masks that covered the lower-half of their faces or hoods that hid their whole heads. She didn't particularly care who they were, because that was commonplace around here.

But _there was_ one of them who stood out from the others…

She had noted him coming to the place regularly for five nights now. Kallen had recognized him before as one of the Vaults' infrequent visitors, and figured he was a mercenary or yet another member of nobility stalking around and just looking for something different.

And she was sure that she wasn't the only one who had noticed. Other patrons did too. But how could you not turn your head to look at him? (At least, she assumed he was male from the stature and the lean build.)

He wore a supple leather cloak fastened by a glimmering amethyst brooch at the very center. And from what she could spy out of that customary cloak tonight, she could easily see that the tunic and pants he wore weren't cheaply made either. The silver embroidery around the edges of dark silk was proof enough that the stranger was well-off. Or if he wasn't, he obviously made enough to afford such extravagant clothing only ever worn by the rich.

The guy was just _asking_ to be robbed…

The ease of his gait and the way he strutted around, his cloak flaring ever so slightly behind him, pinned Kallen's eyes to his figure. Even when she had snapped out of it long enough to realize that _he_ was _approaching her_ , she couldn't find it in her to look away.

Oddly enough, for a man that hid his face, he held an air of dignity around him. Her eyes wandered to his feet, stepping in front of one another as he approached her soundlessly.

The stranger stopped half a foot away from her, and that aura of power that exuded from his very stature was so potent, Kallen could have _sworn_ she forgot herself just a bit. Eyes transfixed to his hooded face, she itched to violate all sense of respecting other people's privacy and just _snatch_ that hood off so she could see what lay beneath.

As the longest five seconds of her life stretched out before the two of them, she had had a brief sense of the world falling around them, leaving only two strangers to gauge each other fully. But that flimsy illusion was shattered when the cloaked figure spoke in a voice that was as smooth as his approach.

"Is this seat taken?" He gestured with his gloved hands; hands with _long spidery_ fingers.

Kallen blinked out of her self-induced stupor. Her face flushed all the way to the roots of her fiery red hair; caught red-handed as she plainly _gawked_ at him.

 _What a way to introduce herself…_

Not trusting herself enough to speak, she merely shook her head and turned away to mind her business. She was suddenly hyper aware of the noise and smells around her as she did her best to finish her inner self-deprecating rant. Even the cackles and barely subdued gasps of pleasure from the prostitutes down here weren't enough to help her drown the embarrassment she was still suffering.

"So, tell me. What is Ruther Stadtfeld's daughter doing in a _dump_ like this?" His tone was inquisitive and so nonchalant that it took her a good few seconds to realize that he was actually talking to _her._ And she was right in assuming he was _male_.

Of course, he was. Who _else_ was Ruther Stadtfeld's daughter?

Despite the intrigue she held for his persona, she frowned, disliking the very thought that he had figured out who she was right off the bat. She didn't answer him immediately, but she gave him the pleasure of receiving her scathing glare.

"Kallen, if you were coming to the Vaults to rough it up with men older than you, you need a more clever disguise than just pinning all your hair up." A growl rumbled in Kallen's throat as she listened to the stranger's voice dripping with false innocence. She could even picture him rolling his eyes in the darkness of that hood. "Spare me the excuses. Your father's men would have come in here and _recognized_ youon the spot. Not that they would fancy a place like this in the first place."

The stranger slumped slightly in his seat, his shoulders hunching over ever so slightly as he gestured for the bartender to deliver him the usual drink. Kallen watched him nonchalantly toss a gold coin into the bartender's tip jar — more than enough to cover the single drink he ordered tonight. So it probably wasn't his last. Just the first of several.

"Well, you know _my name_." She sipped from her mug, still peeved and internally alarmed that she was speaking to a stranger who _probably_ had weapons hidden in his complicated outfit. "Don't you think it's only proper for me to receive the same courtesy?"

She could hear the smirk in his voice when he angled his head slightly towards her. "In a place like this, I think not."

On a normal day, the flames of outrage and annoyance would have lit her blood on fire, compelling her to pick a _fight_ and _show_ this guy _exactly who_ he was going to deal with. But whatever was the reason for her boredom tonight, Kallen only relented with a frustrated sigh and a defeated shrug of her shoulders.

"I suppose it can't be helped…"

There was festering silence between them for a good while until Kallen couldn't stand the quiet punctuated by the sounds of men shouting over each other as they gambled across the room. Addressing the fascinating stranger with a generic, "Hey, you," seemed to do the trick.

And as much as her gut told her no, the nobleman's stubborn daughter silenced the insistent voice niggling away at the back of her mind. It was a voice that told her this man was dangerous and that he couldn't be trusted. That she shouldn't be speaking so freely with him, loosening her tongue willingly to tell him a life story he probably didn't care about. But she should have known better…

A tipsy Kallen was a chatty Kallen… Didn't the few friends she made in the Vault tell her that? Get her a few drinks on the house, and her tongue would have a life of its own. Ah, but she didn't care at the moment. She didn't care because her strange companion was a _rapt_ listener.

And she was _actually_ having a conversation with him. Although she did most of the talking, he was attentive enough to factor in his two cents every now and then. And the more they talked, the more she found his voice strangely alluring. It had a sort of sedating quality to it. That, or she was just _really_ tipsy.

Kallen was talking about how her father was almost assassinated the other day by a woman who barged into their home and tried to take him out, only to fall victim to a trap her father's guards had set. And as she rambled on and on, the stranger listened intensely — more than he did before.

Frowning in the shadows of his concealing hood, he asked, "And how did the guards know to set a trap for her — this assassin?"

Kallen snorted, her ego climbing up a notch as she proudly answered, "I told them of course." She flashed him an arrogant smile reminiscent of one of the assassins in the Guild. "I said I wouldn't mind my father dying, but not after I've saved up enough money to leave this hellish place. She's welcome to try and take him out again after I'm on my way to Nippon. But until then, he has to stay alive."

The stranger was quiet for a few heartbeats, processing every word that the nobleman's daughter had vomited tonight. If she was _this_ talkative after two mugs of alcohol, then she would _certainly be_ interesting if she was _drunk_. But he didn't want her drunk at the moment, so when Kallen made to order her third drink in his presence, he was quick to snatch her wrist and guide it back to the table.

And when she had the _nerve_ to question his actions, he said, "No one's going to chaperone you home tonight. Keep your head the way it is."

He was right, of course. Kallen frowned and clenched her fists atop the slightly oily bar counter; if only to keep herself from consuming a third mug. She was mad at herself for divulging so much about her life to a man like him in one go, but now she could only hope he would chalk her ramblings down to the alcohol talking through her.

"You said someone told you about the assassination attempt happening any day during that week. Was it a friend of yours?" The stranger pressed.

And Kallen, oblivious to the stranger's _obvious_ prying, made a noncommittal sound that meant 'yes.'

He meant to press for deeper and _better_ answers, but the redhead had moved on to a different topic of conversation — one that revolved around the Crown's latest interest.

Going off of what he could glean from Kallen's slightly rushed explanations, the stranger could only make out the barest details of the Imperial Crown hosting a competition to find the Emperor's next humble servant to do his bidding. She then went on to explain that that was all she knew since her father wasn't very keen on sharing the complete details. But she _was_ mentioning something else…

"He's behind in finding a would-be Champion to sponsor, though." Kallen's chuckle was absolutely taunting.

"And why is that?" He asked with renewed interest; finding Kallen amusing as he watched her beneath the shadow of the hood with his chin propped atop his fist.

"He's gotten it into his head to compete with the First Prince of Britannia in trying to find that Warlock Assassin. Or whoever he is." Kallen grumbled.

He was about to speak but a roar rising from the center of the large hall drew their attention. They were so deep into their conversation that neither of them realized that the Fighting Pit had officially opened for business for the night.

Men flocked to the ever growing crowd at the center of the room. There were shouts for placing betting amounts, and the clamor of many men to place their bets on the lineup of fighters set to compete tonight. The unruly hollering and the constant jostling around for a place in the chaotic line (if there was _even_ one in the first place) was almost painful to watch.

But when a collective cheer, a whistle, and a shout barged through the hall, everyone knew that the first fight of the night had officially begun.

The rules in the Fighting Pits were simple…

No weapons allowed. Armor was fine — especially for the women who _dared_ , but only fists were permitted into the barely washed ring.

The stranger discreetly let his eyes wander over Kallen's current attire, and the fierce set of her eyes as he stared off into the gaggle of men and the ring where pained cries, grunts, and growls emanated from. The sound of fists smacking against flesh was so audible too — a testament to how hard these people pummeled each other in the name of money and entertainment.

He was curious, so he decided to try something out. He had nothing lose, after all. "So the Emperor needs someone as skilled as the Warlock of Britannia to do his bidding."

Kallen turned to him, and over the raucous noise, spoke louder than before. "That's his _title_?" She wrinkled her nose at the absurdity of it. What did the assassin do, exactly, to earn that nickname?

The stranger shrugged. "That's what they call him." A pause, and then, "You sound as if you would detest someone like him."

Kallen grit her teeth. "I don't particularly care, but if I have to, I disagree with his methods. Always killing for a living can't be a sustainable job." She reasoned, her eyes shifting back to watch him.

He chuckled lowly at her hypocritical remark. "That's funny… Coming from someone who _associates_ with an assassin."

 _How did he—?_

But Kallen's surprised expression — no matter how brief it lasted, was enough of a confirmation for him. Even when she did her best to school her face back into a more neutral setting, it wasn't good enough. He had seen through her, and he finally had the opening he was waiting for.

In the shadows of his hood, he clenched his jaw.

"I don't know any assassins." Kallen insisted, stubbornly refusing to meet his shadowed face.

"Then this friend of yours who told you about the assassination attempt must be _one hell_ of a spy." The sarcasm wasn't lost on her as she did look _sort of_ defeated. "Because I can assure you, Kallen _Stadtfeld_ , that nobody trespasses into the grounds of the Assassin's Lair in Pendragon and comes out alive. So the _only_ way you _would_ have found out about a high-profile mission like that, was if someone from within the Guild _told you_."

His tone had dropped into a low and menacing growl, but for some reason, she heard him _clearer_ than before. And… And… He was an _assassin._ A part of her mind began working at hyper speed to backtrack and concoct several excuses, but even _she_ was smart enough to know when attempts at salvaging were futile.

She was sure of one thing, though… The stranger wanted _something_ from her. Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered patiently luring her into a conversation like this and then springing the trap.

God, was he keeping _tabs_ on her the past few nights? She wasn't sure why, but the thought of him _studying_ her from the darkness of a Vault alcove sent shivers down her spine.

Kallen clenched her fist atop the table, the roar that rose from the Fighting Pits a faint background noise compared to the sound of her blood rushing in her ears.

The stranger sat across from her, looking as relaxed and as untouchable as ever. She discreetly and swiftly scanned him from head to toe, trying to gauge if she could fight her way out of this and delay him long enough so she could run and disappear into the crowd.

Surely one mishap was enough for the night…

 _Me and my big mouth…_

"So what do you want from me?" She demanded, glaring at the shadows that _stared_ back at her.

 _Clever girl…_ He mentally applauded her for realizing his rather evident intent. Most people were so dim, that he often had to explain himself. He shrugged. "All I ask is a name, so I can exact proper retribution. Or perhaps you prefer the story of a nobleman's daughter gallivanting through Babel Tower at night to reach the _wrong_ ears."

Oh, how _dare_ he?

For all she knew, he could be bluffing. But… If this man was _truly_ an assassin, then who knew what he was capable of? The existence of their organization — if you could call it that — was a big deal to Pendragon's underworld. She wasn't sure, but there _were_ rumors of the Crime Lord paying homage to the Master Assassin of the Guild in Pendragon — as ridiculous as that sounded.

If push came to shove, it would be _her_ word against _his_. But what good would her testimonies do her in the face of a glorious bribe and a half-truth whispered in the wrong ears?

Something flashed in her eyes, and he watched as she shot to her feet. Arms pressed to her sides with clenching fists, she glowered at him. For a moment, she was possibly even forgetting that he had just _threatened_ her.

Kallen glanced at the writhing bodies crowding around the Fighting Pits beyond them, and made her decision. She could use the chaos within the ring to make her escape. But she had to do it right… She had to distract the crowd with a good fight, so she could slip away unawares.

There was no rush in collecting her hard-earned money anyway. She could get it from Ohgi some other time.

If she lost a fight to this man professing to be an assassin, then so be it. But if she took this stranger down _fair and square_ in front a public spectacle, then _even better._ Either way, if she did it right, she could slip away.

 _I'm not going down without a fight…_

Kallen _Kozuki_ wasn't an ace Pit Fighter for _nothing_ …

"I'll give you an answer if you can _beat me_ in a fight. And when I win, you get the hell out of my life, drink yourself stupid tonight, and forget this conversation ever happened."

 _When_ ; not _if…_

The stranger's mouth stretched into a dastardly grin.

"I like a fair deal. So if _I_ win, you _answer my every question tonight._ "

"Fine." She huffed, and nearly didn't accept his hand when he offered to shake hers. But she did anyway — his firm and warm grip didn't escape her notice.

With impossible grace, the stranger left his seat and strode through the room towards the unruly crowd. Kallen followed in his steps hastily, her light armor clanking, as she realized that it should have been _her_ to lead the way.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm really curious, so please humor me for a bit.**

 _ **What do you think of the backstory behind Kallen?**_

 **Constructive criticisms and VERY honest feedback is welcome. I kind of want to know because her narrative was a joy to write and I felt the need to flesh her out early on since most of this story will revolve around Lelouch and CC. I want to give the spotlight to other significant characters where possible.**

 **And originally, I would have included the fight in this chapter. But by the gods, it was getting** _ **way too ridiculously**_ **long. I had to cut it.**

 **Review replies:**

 **Freudentraene: Thank you for your interest. :) haha! And I know that for a lot of people, myself included, that it can be quite hard to picture Lelouch as an assassin who can fight his way out of death. Canonically speaking, he always _does_ rely on other people to do the heavy lifting. But then again, that's what fanfictions are for, isn't it? So, because this is AU, you, me, and a lot of other people can indulge in a Lelouch who knows how to fight - in more ways than one. (In very _lethal_ ways actually). And boy, is it gonna be fun. ;) At least, I hope so. Maybe I'm the only one who thinks he'd be so HOT stalking around the streets in Assassins' Creed gear and garb while killing bad people. But seriously, thank you for the input. I appreciate it! :)**

 **Thatsoneperson: Please, don't apologize for the long review. I appreciate them in _all_ lengths. :D And I'm happy to know that you think the story is intriguing so far. I'll work hard to keep it that way until the very end. And thank you so much for understanding the perils of every writer too. It is hard, juggling RL responsibilities and this, but it's what keeps a lot of us happy (or in my case, sane).**


	4. The Play and its Characters

**A/N: WARNING: A detailed fight lies ahead. I'm not sure if it's graphic (because, let's be honest, 'graphic' means differently to different people). But if you have an** _ **active and detailed**_ **imagination, then just be aware that there's going to be some violence.**

 **Also, the fight Kallen mentioned in _Two Dancing Vipers_ is this one. ;)**

 **Thank you for the support I'm getting on this story; the reads, the reviews, the faves, the follows... I'll always say I'm grateful.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: The Play and its Characters**

The Vaults had never been a pleasant place. But never before had Lelouch understood the _true_ meaning of _suffocation_ until the moment he was within range of the roaring crowd in the Pits.

The stench of unwashed bodies, sweat, blood, and the natural odor of the Vaults combined created a stench so strong that he was thankful to have an excuse to use the mask that would cover the lower half of his face. Granted, he needed it for this fight if he was going to discard his cloak and hood.

He shoved his way in through the jostling crowd just in time to make it to the edge of the open and flat arena to see the dominant fighter land a knock-out punch to the other man. Blood sprayed in the air as the defeated challenger's body crumpled into an unconscious heap. The rowdy crowd only grew even louder as shouts of triumph and groans of defeat echoed across the tight space. Coins were tossed and claps on the back were exchanged while the winner raised both fists into the air, howling and puffing out his chest like a rutting bull.

Off slightly to his side, Lelouch spied Kallen Stadtfeld's annoyed face as she surveyed the scene. She made a quick motion with her hands to the announcer taking center stage. And Lelouch observed the exchange quietly from the shadows of his hood as the announcer declared the victor for the last fight.

He stood aside as Kallen easily shouldered her way past the men and heading for the tall man in the center who was ushering the last fighter out of the arena. Two other men materialized from the crowd to drag the unconscious body away.

Above the din, Lelouch could hear them speaking in normal tones as a collective murmuring began.

"Kozuki." The announcer, Ohgi — as Kallen said so earlier, grinned. Lelouch could already see a myriad of gold and silver coins flashing around him as they passed the currency from one man to another to place the bet. "Name your opponent."

In her suit of lightweight armor, Kallen made a show of rolling her shoulders to loosen them. She jerked her head from side to side as well, and shook her hands outward before clenching them into fists. The crowd was getting restless, waiting for their favorite fighter to name her unlucky challenger.

"Him!" She jerked her chin in the hooded figure's direction.

And like one body, all eyes turned to Lelouch. Taking that as his official cue, the assassin stepped up to the edge of the arena. He lifted the mask from his neckline to cover the lower half of his face.

"No weapons." One of the Vaults' guards grumbled just slightly behind him.

Lelouch merely cocked his head and lifted his arms, turning in a circle to allow the beefy guy to pat him down with his sweaty and dirty hands.

Lelouch was wearing his form-fitting suit underneath the glorious tunic, and as the guard failed to find the weapons concealed in his clothing, the Warlock of Britannia looked across the pit. Kallen's stern glare wasn't lost on him. And when the guard had finished his _failure_ of an inspection, Lelouch removed the hood shadowing his face with the flourish of a preening prince.

Kallen mentally rolled her sleeves up in preparation for this fight. She _refused_ to take her eyes off of him as he stalked towards the center of the pit. And just like every other fight she'd started and had been challenged to before, she could feel the crowd's incessant noise diminish into a faint drone in the background. All focus and heavy determination was set on defeating the assassin who, for a few hours of conversation, managed to dangle a noose over her head.

But as her opponent drew closer, she _finally_ had a clearer view of his face. And _boy_ , was it interesting…

There was a sudden bright flare from one of the caged torches on the edge of the arena, signaling the start of the match. A roar rushed through the crowd as Kallen paced the edge, watching this assassin closely.

When she inwardly told herself he was interesting, she wasn't lying. Even with the lower half of his face concealed in a heavy black mask, his crown of ebony hair was _shiny_ in the low light. And from a distance of approximately eight feet, she could see the fire light catching in his eyes. They glimmered in a shade of an otherworldly violet. It was — _dare she say_ — too impossibly remarkable for _just this world_ to behold.

He moved like a black jungle cat; prowling around the edge, sizing her up just as she was doing to him.

And then, like two whips snapping from their coils, they sprung…

Kallen got ahead by a few seconds, angling her body back as she feigned a left hook, but kicked and aimed for his sensitive parts instead. Men didn't always fall for it, but when they did, it was an easy win for her from there on out. He, however, belonged in the former group and protected his privates easily enough by swaggering out of the way while still keeping a defensive stance.

But that was his mistake…

In the minuscule of a second when he slid into his _fancy_ stance, Kallen went on the offensive and landed alarmingly consecutive jabs — no breaks in-between — to his unprotected side. A right hook to his jaw, a sharp shin-kick to his thigh, a foot slamming into the joint of his ankle, and a fast left hook sent his head snapping back violently from the force.

With a triumphant smirk, Kallen watch as this _almighty assassin_ gave into a disturbed balance and sprawled all over the dirt. She didn't even hear him yelp or scream. The only sound was the thud muffled by his clothes and the dirt as he fell.

 _Well, those fancy clothes are going to need some fancy washing…_

The rabble roared as a shower of silver coins began hitting the ground in the arena. The noises were a mix of disappointed taunts and riotous cheering. And if she was going to be honest, Kallen herself was slightly disappointed. She had _planned_ to defeat him in a _glorious_ match. A fight worthy enough to flaunt her prowess. Not one that was so piss poor it was _hardly_ even _fair game_.

"Seriously, you're all talk." She scoffed and spat on the dirt adjacent to her. Her armor clinked as she shook her arms out to loosen them.

But he climbed steadily to his feet, those stunning eyes glittering with so much mirth, it was _irritating_. What _the hell_ was the bastard so smug about? Obviously, the fight wasn't over because he stood up to continue. But if he couldn't even _defend_ himself properly with that proper stance, how was he expecting to withstand her speed and her agility?

Kallen growled under her breath and lunged with alarming speed…

And Lelouch effortlessly dodged out of the way again.

The only difference was that the assassin was _finished_ playing around…

He let her have a go at him, both to get the element of surprise by letting her assume the _worst_ about his skills, _and_ to put up a show. A _really_ good one.

Needless to say, from the short beating he let her do to him, he could already tell that Kallen was a practiced and skilled fighter… Just not as adept as him, unfortunately.

So, as soon as Lelouch had dodged her attack, he caught her arm and locked it into a hold. This close to her, he saw the pained wince on her face as she struggled against his bone-snapping grip. He kicked the back of her knee with his own, immediately forcing her to nearly bend one. But although she buckled, Kallen recovered enough from the initial shock to have the mind to elbow him in the gut.

The assassin's gravelly chuckle in her ear was cut short when she felt an explosion of pain on her temple. She could have sworn the air rushed out of her and back again when she staggered back from the force of that blow.

He drove his knee into the side of her head, didn't he?

Shaking her head from the momentary stupor, she was grateful the stars from her vision cleared long enough to see him dancing on his toes. He could have finished her off quickly and easily, but he was _goading_ her to _strike_.

With a cry of fury fitting of an enraged woman, she rushed at him, this time more prepared to read his movements. Perhaps she had been _too_ hasty in saying she got the better of him.

Punch after punch, block, dodge, lunge, duck, kick, spin…

The flurry of movement was so brutal and impossibly fast that even the crowd had trouble keeping up. She was just getting frustrated at how _fast_ he moved. He was evasive — almost passive in his dodging, but the blows and the attacks he delivered _ached_ and _stung_ where they hit. Kallen was holding up fine, but the longer he swiftly moved without tiring _visibly_ , the more she felt frustrated.

 _Could she ever take him down like she did the first time?_

Around her, the crowd was a writhing slobbering mass; all eager to see blood; all waiting for anyone of their bones to just _snap_. And the gods help her if she couldn't get a jab or a kick in.

She threw a punch that _grazed_ his cheekbone just before he gripped her wrist, pulled, and secured his elbow around her throat. She barely had the mind and the strength to push all her combined weight against him so they tumbled to the ground.

Sand and clumps of dirt moist with blood from the previous fight sprayed and sifted violently as the two grappled for dominance on the earth. She managed to get him under her, delivering a solid punch to that masked face, successfully splitting his cheek and drawing blood.

Lelouch took full advantage of her miscalculation fueled by her fiery emotion and determination to beat him down. Quick as a writhing serpent, he twisted his body and brought his legs up, wrapped them around her neck, and flipped her. He did it only to be hurled off with a shove so hard that he tumbled right off of her.

The Warlock smoothly rolled on the ground to absorb the impact and uncoiled to his feet just as Kallen picked herself up from the dirt to come at him again with a roundhouse kick.

Her mistake though…

Lelouch side-stepped and easily caught her outstretched leg. She yelped from the sudden and unwanted shift in her balance. But Kallen didn't have enough time to process what happened when she felt her face slam into the ground again.

After catching her leg and preventing her attack, he twirled swiftly and kicked her bottom with the sole of his foot, sending her careening into the blood-soaked earth. He could have aimed the axe kick at her back, but it could have been an offensive move that would have damaged her vertebra — if it didn't snap it in half, that is…

Her butt was the safer option…

Lelouch schooled his shallow breathing as he watched the Fighting Pits' Ace struggle to balance herself on all-fours.

Kallen shakily inhaled huge gulps of air. And only in this still moment — when the adrenaline was slowly fading — did she have a brief moment to process the fact that her face was aflame with pain; pain that signaled bruises. There was something wet trickling from the corner of her mouth, on her lips, and at the side of her head, too — blood, most likely.

Being a fighter, she was more than used to the pain and the wounds and marks that came with it. But just because she was accustomed to the excruciating pain, it didn't mean she had to _like_ it.

She slowly blinked the white spots away from her swimming vision. And in the chaos of her own crushing effort to gain her bearings, she could just make out Ohgi declaring the assassin as the winner.

So much for making him drink himself stupid and forget tonight… Now, he was _really_ going to grill her in. He had won, after all.

But he couldn't exactly get the answers he wanted if she was passed out from exhaustion and shock, right? But what would happen now? Would he make do with his threat to expose her? But he said he only wanted _answers_ ; wanted to know who told her about that girl's dispatch mission that night… But he could… He could—

It was a thought she never got to finish though as her addled brain gave into the abuse and the fatigue. Kallen surrendered herself to the sweet embrace of unconsciousness; oblivious and completely unaware of the pair of arms that slid beneath her and carried her away from the Vaults — away from that eventful night of drinking and fighting.

vVvVv

The start of a new day was barely beginning. The sun hadn't peeked between the tallest towers of the Royal Palace yet when Lelouch was steadily making his way into the inn and the room he had rented out for the night.

Upon his return to the _slightly_ lavish quarters, it was to find the nobleman's daughter uncouthly rifling through his things.

She was so distracted in her prying, she didn't even hear him when he pushed the door open and leaned against the jamb. Well, to be fair, he _did_ have a habit of moving like a cat, but by the gods! Weren't people like her more sensitive to others' presence, or at least, _movement_?

So when Lelouch cleared his throat to get her attention, Kallen jumped — startled — and hastily backed herself against the dresser in the rented room. Her response was almost funny, but he wasn't in a particular mood to jest. If anything, he was still on edge from last night's brawl, and given that so much inside information was about to be put on the line, the Warlock of Britannia couldn't help but feel antsy.

One look at Kallen though, revealed that she probably felt the same — if not worse. He was just better at hiding it.

"What a way to express your gratitude after how I saved you last night." He drawled, entering the room without preamble, shutting the door, and plopping down on the love seat placed diagonally across the fireplace.

He didn't bother to try and see Kallen's face, but he knew she was utterly _infuriated_. It was an emotional outburst caused by the shock and the indignance, probably.

" _Saved me?!_ " And there was the outburst he had been waiting to hear. "You brought me to _gods know where_ after that fight. The deal was to answer your questions and _go_ right after."

Lelouch frowned, stopped digging into his knapsack, and stared at her. "You weren't exactly in any _condition_ to answer my questions. I did what I had to."

Kallen growled under her breath. She was fully aware of a glass mirror behind her, but she refused to look — refused to see the dark bruises peppering her face, or a split lip she would have to nurse for the next few weeks. And yes, she _did_ remember blacking out, but still… This was just… Just—

There were no words to describe her outrage at the moment…

Huffing like a scolded child, she sat down on the bed and played with the hem of her short pants — the ones she wore underneath her padded and lightweight armor. At least he had the decency to unburden her while her body recovered from the beating; even if the thought of him taking off her armor from her unconscious body made her flush.

Who's to say he didn't sneak a grope or two in-between? God, this was _frustrating._

"I could break a run and leave you here if I wanted to." She grumbled.

He smirked smugly at her. "Then why don't you?" She didn't spare him an answer, so he spoke. "Even _you're_ smart enough to know I wouldn't let that happen."

"What do you plan to do to my friend?" She asked, fixing her steely blue eyes on him.

He wasn't wearing any sort of cloth to cover his face anymore. And even in the dim light of a barely lit torch because of the closed drapes, she now had a clearer view of his face. She hadn't imagined the violet eyes last night. But with the addition of a mouth and a nose and a full face, Kallen inwardly admitted he wasn't half-bad — as far as physical features went.

It was a pretty face — for a boy… One that could have grown up in the cradle of Britannia's aristocracy.

And she _still_ didn't know his name…

"That depends…" Lelouch commented stoically, finally turning to address her properly.

"On what?" Kallen asked with steely eyes, arms folded across her chest. She felt slightly exposed, for some reason.

"On which agenda I deem more important." He shrugged. The stoic expression _melted_ before her very eyes as a sudden weariness settled on his young face. It made her feel uneasy. She opened to her mouth to speak but he stood up. "I couldn't tell you my name last night. But it's Zero."

"Zero…" Kallen mumbled, testing out how the syllables rolled down her tongue.

Lelouch nodded once, and began to pace the length of the room. "Kallen." The smooth way he pronounced her name broke her out of her reverie. "Do you believe that in life, certain sacrifices have to be made for the sake of the greater good?"

A small frown drew a crease between her eyebrows. He was looking at her expectantly, with wide doe-like eyes; pools of violet that glimmered softly in the low light. "I'm not sure why you would ask something like that."

He waved a gloved hand at her. "It's an honest question."

She didn't want to admit that after he asked her his ideological question, her mind had drifted to what she had seen in Pendragon and its surrounding areas while growing up in her father's care. She had spent most of her life in a noble house — pampered and cared for — but the displaced people of war didn't escape her notice.

Kallen had been in Nippon when Britannia's conquest for territory expansion had happened. And she had heard her fair share of stories from the older people about the Empire's slave encampment being constructed at the foot of Mount Fuji. Being a child then, she couldn't understand much. Even the people who worked at Babel Tower weren't always Britannians. There were people there originating from different kinds of races. Ohgi was a prime example of a displaced citizen.

And when you really traced the trail of suffering, the road led back to Britannia's Empire and its government — led by the Emperor, of course.

Kallen faltered, but hesitantly told the assassin her answer, nevertheless. "It depends on the sacrifice, I guess. But then again, if it's for everybody, then perhaps a sacrifice would be worth it. Because…" She bit the inside of her cheek, recalling an unpleasant memory. "Because everything _has_ a price." He stopped pacing and their eyes met. The contact triggered a blush to dust across her bruised cheeks. She hastily looked away. "I mean, the world could certainly do better without Britannia." She mumbled under breath.

Kallen was surprised when he laughed. Wholeheartedly _laughed_. She frowned. Did he find her answer amusing or something?

And just when she thought she'd explode in irrational outrage again, he began to speak between chuckles.

"Yes, the world could most _certainly_ do better without this _wretched_ Empire." He nodded at her approvingly, which only brought a blush out of Kallen again.

 _What_ was it _with this guy and making her flustered?_

Lelouch found her answers amusing and most intriguing. Perhaps he didn't have to _drill_ a couple of ideals, after all. She was pretty much on the right path for him to execute the rest of his plans already.

"Kallen," he called her name in _that_ tone again. "I won't ask for your friend's name anymore."

Kallen's eyes were _wide_ , and judging from the look on her face, he could tell she wanted to question his reasonings. But instead, what came out of her mouth was a simple, "Thanks…"

 _A smart girl indeed…_ Perhaps she figured asking him _why_ he decided to give her this mercy would cause him to change his mind.

"Sacrifices have to be made for the sake of the greater good." He echoed his own words and nodded resolutely, finally ceasing his pacing and taking a proper seat on the edge of the bed _across_ his befuddled guest. "I'm setting aside retribution for a captured comrade for the purpose of carrying out a _different_ agenda — a much more important one."

Lelouch silently hoped she wouldn't just shut her mouth. He wanted her to take the bait… It took a lot of her chewing the inside of her cheek, but she didn't disappoint.

"Agenda?" She cocked an eyebrow. What could an assassin from Pendragon's Guild have that would be interesting to her?

His face set into contemplation, Lelouch let the silence fester, building up a bit of anticipation and a _lot_ of suspense. Let her have the impression that he was _thinking_. A simple glance at her facial expression revealed the sudden anxiety he had triggered. He could practically feel the air come alive as Kallen's curiosity _radiated_ out of her.

"I want Britannia gone as much as you do." He sighed, as if he had _just_ made up his mind. In truth, he had this little conversation planned out _hours_ ago. "And even though this offer is too soon for our level of acquaintance, I believe you would be a valuable addition to my secret coup."

And there it was… The explosive that would leave an impact in this conversation.

When Lelouch had brought her here last night with the intent of claiming his end of the deal before the fight, he had every inclination that she would be a marvelous addition to his secret network of people all geared to take down Britannia. And because she was the piece that he needed, there was _no way_ he was going to let her walk out of this conversation with her old mentality.

Kallen, on the other hand, was taking the moment to turn his statement over in her head. His words were simple. Straight forward. There was no room for misinterpretation on _that_ one. Had she been a simple-minded idiot, she would have thought he was joking. But even so, the dead serious face and the hopeful look on his eyes said otherwise.

"You do realize that your words are grounds for being tried and imprisoned for mutiny, right?" She spoke slowly after careful consideration, pressing her lips together in thought as her fists clenched on the duvet beneath her.

Lelouch just shrugged, expecting this line of reasoning from her given her level of rational thinking. His answer was simple, and truthful. "I've known it from the moment I began plotting it, and working every single day to make it a reality."

"How long?"

"Four years…"

A pregnant silence fell again. It was the _longest_ thirty seconds of both their lives. It was while before Kallen spoke up with her curiosity and skeptical inquiries.

"But how are you going to get close enough to the Emperor to even _get rid_ of him? How are you going to rally support from the _nobles_? There are _so many_ holes in your plans, and I don't think you even realize it."

Yes, the plan _would_ have many holes if he hadn't spent careful time grinding in the past years to make sure there won't be any when the opportunity would rise. Rest assured, _almost_ all of his pieces were in place. There were just drawbacks — like CC getting captured and him devoting time to _find_ her.

But Kallen didn't need to know _that_ … Not now, at least. So he was going to provide her with the vaguest plan possible.

"I can recall you telling me last night that the Emperor wants a Champion, and has invited his small council members to sponsor a worthy candidate. And if I'm not mistaken, your father is still _sorely_ in need of one, isn't he?"

He looked almost hesitant, but his words struck something in her that Kallen could only _blink_ with realization at his words.

"I… Well, yes. But—"

Pleased with her reaction, Lelouch _gladly_ filled in the blank he had _intentionally_ left. He needed her to be curious. If he failed at playing his cards, nothing good was coming out of this.

"I only need to get close enough to the Emperor to kill him. And this little stint is just the window I need." He supplied, and Kallen watched as a slow and sly smile formed across his lips. It was so smug, that she felt the need to ask, but he interrupted her before she can speak again. "And as for the other concerns, thank you for pointing them out, but I'll handle that."

She frowned. Kallen didn't like the vague answer — _at all_.

"How are you so sure I won't sell you out the moment I leave this room? And for that matter, how can I trust _you_ after you _threatened_ me last night?"

He ignored her failed attempt at threatening _him_. Lelouch only raised an eyebrow. "You hate your father, don't you? And wouldn't you want to see your mother much sooner?"

From his perch on the edge of the adjacent single bed, Kallen watched as he reached into the inside of his coat. The assassin produced a thick stack of rectangular sheets and a fancy fountain pen. She wanted to peek at what he was writing down, but apparently, she didn't have to _die_ of curiosity as he looked up, fixed that penetrating gaze on her, and said:

"Name the _reasonable_ amount and it's yours." Twirling his fountain pen smoothly between the spaces of his fingers, Lelouch resisted the urge to physically grimace at his own actions. He was usually never one for bribery, but some situations called for it. And he was never really above doing whatever means necessary to get what he wanted.

 _Gods, he was turning into Arobynn._

Meanwhile, Kallen had no trouble gaping at him and his rather frivolous method, though. She honestly didn't know how to feel about it. Well, maybe she was a little… _insulted_ that he would think he could win her over with money. But…

She _did_ need it, to be perfectly honest. Although, she _was_ going to give him leverage if she accepted the uncouth offer, but what's a fat pouch full of gold and being someone's tool when she could spend the rest of her days with her _real_ family in Nippon after the ordeal?

She had another year of saving money to go before she had enough to take a ship and travel for several months. If he wasn't going to dupe her, she could be on a ship to Nippon by the end of however long his rebellion was going to last.

Kallen had gleaned that he was well-off judging from his clothing last night and the previous nights she had caught glimpses of him stalking around the Vaults, but how much money did he _actually_ make?

"If I take your offer, I'm assuming you're going to promise me I can go to Nippon by the time your coup de tat ends, right?"

Lelouch was truly impressed by her level of logic. A smart girl indeed. He could really use someone like her on his side. And he meant that genuinely. Gods knew how there weren't enough intuitive people in the world.

"You don't need to assume. It's what I intend to do. My time frame is within the length of the Emperor's ridiculous competition. Right after we're done here, I plan to present myself to your father as a mercenary who's heard word of his announcement."

Kallen glanced at the fat stacks of paper in his lap and the pen poised delicately between his slender fingers. "And if he doesn't take you, or if he already has someone?"

The smirk he gave her was the same one he wore last night when she challenged him to a fight. "Then I'll just have to prove that I'm the better option, now, won't I?"

She wrinkled her nose at his smugness. "You're too arrogant for your own good."

Glad that some semblance of light-hearted banter gradually returned to slice the thickening atmosphere, Lelouch just shrugged with an easy and charming smile.

"I can back the boast, so perhaps I have a right to be."

Kallen chose to ignore his quip, and sighed through her nose. He held out his hand with the banknote clipped between his fingers.

"I don't need to tell you to keep it from your father. But when you've decided, write the amount of gold you need on it. You'll see me around when the competition starts anyway."

She took the proffered banknote, and took a moment to glance at it. All the required information was filled out, complete with his signature and a symbol made by a signet ring she wasn't familiar with.

Kallen met his gaze steadily, the slip of paper that possibly held her future gripped in her steady hands. "I need a bit of time to think about it, Zero…"

"Not too much, I hope." Lelouch grinned at her. "You thinking about it is as good as you agreeing in the long run."

Kallen tucked the piece of paper away in the pockets of her pant shorts. "If I _do_ decide to accept your proposal, what's my role in your rebellion?"

Lelouch clucked his tongue. "Rebellion's a strong word. But I suppose it's the only word ample enough to describe the revolution that's about to happen." That slick and easy smile was back again, emphasizing his handsome features. "I'll provide more details when you've made a decision. But to give a brief description, you'll be in charge of networking to the general masses because you're a favorite fighter in the Vaults; therefore, you hold a degree of influence. You do have influence over your friends, don't you?" The grin morphed into a kind and endearing smile — one she found attractive and immediately hated herself for thinking it.

"Well, Ohgi, Tamaki, and some of the others _do_ listen to me." Kallen mumbled under her breath, her mind lost in a mental account of the fighters in the Pit who respected her. "Yes, I do."

The mention of an important name didn't escape Lelouch's trained ears however. The Freudian slip made him smile (a charming smile that hid all semblance of smug victory). He was smiling so much today, but how couldn't he?

He didn't need to wring the traitor's name out of her, after all…

Just like he wanted. Just as he had hoped. Just like he _planned_.

So, it was Tamaki, then. He should've known, honestly; and he was disappointed that he didn't figure it out himself. The bastard had been the one to suggest killing her at the meeting days ago.

Lelouch pretended to only hear her last three words.

"You're brilliant!" He exclaimed, clapping his gloved hands in delight. He took out a pocket watch, made a show of inspecting the time, and addressed her again in his normal tone. "And now that our deal last night is met, I believe you're free to go." His face fell then, and Kallen didn't know why. "I _am_ sorry about the…"

Kallen listened to him trail off, and watched a light dusting of pink materialize on his cheeks as he gestured to her face. If she wasn't so busy thinking about how _bad_ her face probably looked, she would have found his momentary lapse in composure quite cute (and half of her did, to be honest).

Too annoyed at being reminded at the sorry state of her face and her still aching body, Kallen waved him off nonchalantly. "Don't apologize. It was a fight, and it was fair game. I'm used to the afflictions."

The blush disappeared like magic, and Kallen secretly gaped at his ability to switch from one expression to another. She swore that _had_ to be a practiced skill. "If you're sure." He nodded. "I did my best to apply some salve to help with the healing, but you'll have to take good care of it."

Now it was _her_ turn to flush. She knew she probably shouldn't _think_ of how much he technically _touched_ her last night, but she couldn't help it. He had to have slipped his gloves off to apply the healing ointments, right?

"I'm leaving for a friend's house." She mumbled.

He nodded. "The inn staff kept your stuff in the armoire in the foyer."

"Thanks." Kallen mumbled, her blush receding as she made her way to the door. But before she twisted the knob to open it, she addressed the assassin sitting on the edge of the bed again. "How do you know I won't tell on you?"

He only gave her a tired smile. "You won't."

God she _hated_ that he was right. But she wouldn't tell him _that…_

Kallen shrugged. "We'll see." A pause. "And… For what it's worth, thanks for taking me here for the night. It was a good fight."

"Likewise. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kallen."

But she hadn't waited for his reply, and the door was already shut when he said it…

Left alone to his own devices, Lelouch stared at his own reflection staring back at him in the dresser mirror.

He was satisfied with the outcome of his efforts today and last night. It was a great start to an even _greater_ deed. So he was right in assuming that someone within the Guild betrayed his best friend, and that someone saw her stalking Stadtfeld's manor.

Well, he now _knew_ the assassin who _betrayed_ CC (thanks to Kallen's subconscious rambling), and the Emperor's attempt at _proper_ entertainment was going to land Britannia in a hell hole they would soon uncover. Thanks to _that_ whole Champion business, his schedule could significantly commence in _advance_.

And if Kallen was right in saying that the nobles were after low-lives like himself (technically), then Lelouch was guessing that there was a strong possibility that CC was _wrangled_ into the whole thing to. In fact, he was _betting_ that one of the nobles already _had_ her. Talk about convenient timing. It would sort-of explain her absence in the Imperial dungeons when he had broken in yesterday. The real question was if CC was going to accept.

The presentation was happening tomorrow at the Imperial palace; a closed court announcement. So he only had _today_ to convince the Chief Templar that he was the man for the job.

And since Ruther wanted the Warlock of Britannia so _badly_ , then he was going to get him… unknowingly.

A ruthless grin spread across his face, quite satisfied that _at least_ some of the pieces were clicking into place…

vVvVv

The Council Room was a grand place; much too frivolous for just a simple meeting. But the royal family in Britannia _was_ infamous for their taste in luxury. And with his sister Guinevere at the helm of _most_ of the interior design, he shouldn't expect less.

At the moment, three members of the Emperor's Small Council gathered at a long table beneath the lavish chandelier attached to the vaulted ceiling. The afternoon sun's rays filtered through the glass ceiling above their heads, creating a lovely spectrum of colors atop the plain white table. A welcome decoration.

Schneizel el Britannia, the Empire's respected Prime Minister stared unblinkingly at the man who sired him. He was waiting for the 98th Emperor to speak; to slice the pregnant silence with that gruff and booming voice he knew all too well.

"So you have chosen to sponsor her, I'm told." The Emperor finally spoke. His voice was gruff, edged and hardened with years of battle and conquest.

"She's not posing any threat while she's tucked away in Aries Villa, for a day. _Heavily_ guarded." Schneizel answered calmly.

He was all too aware about the edge he was dangling on, at the moment. They were given free reign to choose whoever, and he had picked a notorious assassin — responsible for a good number of murders that had happened within the government. Odysseus, his older brother, had the expected reaction — surprise and worry. Bismarck — the highest among the Emperor's twelve knights, however, mirrored his father's stern countenance.

"Without the trap Stadtfeld's guards had set up for her, His Majesty's first adviser would be dead. Had they been unaware of her coming, another _dead_ noble would be on our hands." Bismarck commented, his weathered face crumpled into a disappointed frown. "Someone like _her_ owes allegiance to none but herself."

"You think like every fool she's murdered." The Emperor commented, one of the rings on his fingers glittering dangerously in the afternoon sun. "She won't balk at putting a knife through your heart."

"And that honed ruthlessness is _exactly_ what she needs to win this little competition of yours."

"I hate to impose, brother. But you probably would have been better off choosing someone like Shin… Or perhaps people like Ashley or David Darlton." Odysseus offered helpfully, maintaining that pleasant temperament that people admired him for.

"Ex-noblemen." Schneizel turned the thought over in his head. "Forged and experienced in battle, with an innate desire to please and regain what they have lost. The perfect Champion among others' standards." Propping up his chin atop his fist, he stared off into the distance for a moment until the Emperor's First Knight spoke up.

"Do we have the complete number of would-be Champions?"

"Last I heard, Lord Stadtfeld was having a slight dilemma." Odysseus replied, stroking his beard habitually.

Schneizel found that bit about Lord Stadtfeld having problems finding a Candidate quite interesting. But instead of commenting, he voiced his own long-hidden inquiry.

"Your Majesty, if I may?" Schneizel asked, waiting for the Emperor to grant him permission. "You never really made it clear on why you've chosen to create a competition out of it."

"We are at war with Southern Europia, and my enemies all around. Who better to do my work than the person utterly grateful for a second chance along with wealth and the power of my name?" The smile on the Emperor's aged face was smug and a little poisonous. "The competition serves to weed out the weak and leave only the strong, until _only one_ remains standing."

No one spoke or moved a muscle as the Emperor stood from his place and gazed out through the glass window at the view that lay beyond.

"This competition is more than just a game." The imposing man glanced over his shoulder at the three other men in the room with him. "And all of you would do well to remember that…"

* * *

 **A/N: The fight wasn't a pain write; the conversation between Kallen and Lelouch was! I know this chapter was like bleh (I think), and things are slow. But that's just because I'm laying the foundation; the ground work. Rest assured, however, that when the Champions are announced [Hint: Next chapter], oh baby! It's a rollercoaster!**

 **Review Replies:**

 **FataLInfluence0: Thank you for the review. :D And about Aelin. It's a possibility, tbh. But, nothing's set in stone yet. I have multiple endings for this thing, and I wanna see where it goes as the story progresses.**

 **Freudentraene: Thank you for the compliment. *0* More Jeremiah and the rest of the CG characters coming up ;)**

 **The221 (Guest review): Thank you for leaving your review, and your thoughts about Kallen's backstory! :)**

 **Guest reviewer #2: Yesss! First off, thanks for the review. :) And second, I see another fellow ToG Fan. ;) About following the book plot loosely, yes a little bit. Since this fic's a hybrid between a book, a video game, and an anime series, the three will be blending together. And I won't give too much away, but I would definitely say that Celaena's character is split between Lelouch and CC. ;)**

 **Thank you for asking your questions. If you have others, feel free to ask. I'll answer as long as it won't spoil anything major. :)**

 **See ya'll in Chapter 4**


	5. The Emperor's Verdict

**A/N: Special thanks to Freudentraene for reviewing Chapter 3. I can't wait to unveil Lelouch's reasonings too. But we'll get there. ;)**

 **As always a huge THANK YOU to you for reading, reviewing, putting this on your list of favorites, and placing this story on alert.**

 **Questions? Feel free to ask. I answer as long as it won't spoil the plot. Criticize me constructively too. I need it. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: The Emperor's Verdict**

CC stood before a mirror gilded in yellow gold and dotted with tiny opals at odd intervals. She smiled as she ran a hand down her flowing gown.

It was a blend between bone white and light Spring green. A milky white sash covered her waist, dotted with emerald rhinestones and edged with shimmering gold trim. The dress sported long sleeves that clung to the shape of her slender arms. Translucent in appearance and unbelievably smooth to the touch, it was like a second skin. The neckline wasn't high, but it wasn't too low either. It showed off her jutting collarbones and the tight fit around the chest accentuated her…assets — so to say. Her matching shoes were the color of live coral. Earrings and necklaces would complete the look, but for some reason, her sponsor didn't grant _that_ luxury.

Scrutinizing herself in the mirror, CC daintily touched her free-flowing hair. They didn't pin it up or did it elaborately for the sake of today's occasion like ladies of the court would usually look. They _did_ curl it though, so it cascaded more gracefully down her shoulders.

But now that she was dressed and fully prepared, CC had no idea what to do.

She need not wonder for very long, however. And she turned around slightly when the rustling skirts from the doorway drew her attention. It was to see Sayoko, one of the ladies-in-waiting, enter behind her.

CC had met Sayoko in her short stay at Aries Villa. The maid was designated to her during that day of preening and polishing. She hadn't complained then, _and_ when Sayoko became part of the entourage that brought her back to the palace and into her official room within its walls.

"It's such a pity that you are who you are." The soft-spoken maid commented — not unkindly. "I honestly won't be surprised if you managed to ensnare some noble into marrying you. Perhaps even His Highness, Prince Schneizel, himself." Sayoko gave her a smile as she righted and adjusted the slight train of CC's long gown before kneeling down to brush the assassin's coral shoes.

CC quite liked Sayoko's attitude and her approach. Though the woman often kept to herself and was mostly quiet, CC could easily discern the cheerful spirit that hid beneath her usual professionalism. She honestly wanted to ask the maid what prompted a woman like her to serve the Emperor, but even CC knew how inappropriate it was to pry when she only knew the other woman for a day.

And people like her demanded a sort of respect that they didn't need to ask for; despite their jobs and station in life.

But still…

"Well, it seems rumors about that from the other ladies in the court have already begun." CC commented offhandedly, getting lost in a memory projected in her mind's eye.

The moment she had arrived in the palace this morning, she had already caught wind of a couple of girls giggling and gossiping about Prince Schneizel's newest conquest. (Although, to be fair, CC really didn't think Schneizel was the type to look for women to woo). And rumors being rumors, they spread like they always did. CC could have cared _less_.

Sayoko straightened up, smiled at CC as she admired her reflection in the mirror again, and gave a light bow. "You are ready to face his Imperial Majesty, my lady."

It was easy to pretend that dressing up this lavishly was for a different purpose other than facing the tyrannical ruler of Britannia. But a world of pretend couldn't stand against the face of reality.

And the cruel truth set in… That today was the day she would be meeting her opponents in the Emperor's competition. Today was the day to stand before the Emperor and sign four years of her life away in servitude when she won.

As if the forces of the universe had heard her thoughts loud and clear, there were three consecutive raps at the door, and both the maid and the lady within turned to see a slightly familiar blonde young man appear at the doorway.

The regal air he carried was palpable. It demanded respect and obedience, and from the corner of her eye, CC saw the maid execute another respectful bow towards the slightly familiar character. CC could recall seeing him briefly at Aries Villa the other day, and in previous undercover missions to spy on nobility in the years before. But at the moment, she couldn't place a name to his face; and though she knew she should have cared, she really didn't.

Her passivity knew no bounds…

"Helena Orynth. Our presence is required at the Emperor's audience chamber immediately. I, Third Knight Gino Weinberg, have been sent to escort you."

And there went the stupid alias Schneizel had forced on her yesterday when he had paid her a brief visit at the Villa to orient her. She wasn't to use her real name or her initials, she was told. A fake persona and a _fake_ name had to be made for the sake of protecting the Crown's pride and to have a significant advantage over the others.

CC had retaliated then and made her thoughts clear on _that_ subject. She thought it was _idiotic_ , to say the least. But the Prince wasn't having any of it. If she still wished to compete, she had to follow his instructions — however frequent or sparing they may be. So despite her not having any sliver of affection for a name like _Helena Orynth_ , she was forced to keep it.

CC bit the inside of her cheek for a moment. _Was_ it a good idea to keep her reputation and her identity a secret? What would the rest of the competition even _think_ of her when she was dressed like this? In lavish gowns and luxurious finery. It was almost ridiculous.

Perhaps a tunic and a pair of silk pants would have been better…

But there was no time to protest or change her mind about the lavish gown because the designated Knight of the Round had marched through the door, approached her, and nigh impatiently offered the crook of his elbow towards her.

"We must hurry, Helena, or hell shall pay." Gino remarked quite enthusiastically as he _literally_ bounded and _dragged_ her out the door. It was a gesture unbecoming of a high-ranked Knight of the Round.

CC only vaguely heard Sayoko's protests about her tripping on her dress or ruining her hair, but the maid's voice was quickly drowned by the blood rushing in her ears. Gino half-dragged half-walked her down the hallway that would take them to the palace. Every once in a while, they would pass by other staff scurrying about or Imperial guards on patrol.

The Witch flashed them her most charming smile, pearly teeth on show, no matter how excitable her current companion was (if he could even be called _that_ ). That smile morphed into her familiar mischievous grin when some of the guards gave her _almost_ discreet approving looks.

A pathetic attempt at ogling, she'd say. Even Sir Weinberg's glancing eyes didn't escape her keen notice. Her hold on his arm turned into _him_ with his fingers wrapped around her forearm.

"You know he's not going anywhere." CC huffed, trying to match Gino's long strides. It was _his_ boots versus _her_ heeled shoes. And the latter wasn't helping her _at all_.

"His Imperial Majesty doesn't deserve a wait. We need to _hurry_. Tardiness is not an option."

He sounded as in love with the Emperor as all his other fellow _subjects_ were…

"Although, I thought you'd wear something less…" Gino slowed down enough to assess her while walking. "—showy to see the Emperor."

CC vaguely wondered how many people knew of her _true_ identity. Did _every_ Knight of the Round know? Or was the information privy only to Schneizel and the Captain of the Guard? It was impossible to say that a _lot_ of people did. Even _Sayoko_ only assumed she was a girl with a criminal case.

The assassin bit her tongue to keep the nasty comments from spilling out of her mouth. Normally, she wouldn't be so reserved, but the magnitude of the situation _just_ hit her. It really _did_ take a moment to sink in. But she was _actually_ on her way to face the man behind the oppression gripping his entire Empire. It had been easy to laugh and joke about him when she was brought before the Prince to be questioned, but now that she was actually about to face _him_ , CC felt like vomiting.

Gino had been rambling about something or other as they neared the audience chamber. She didn't care to listen to him. And she didn't give a rat's ass if he knew that she wasn't paying attention.

The set of grand double doors carved from oak wood loomed in the distance, like the mouth of a cavernous cave — imposing, and (okay, she would admit it) intimidating. The assassin could already feel her right temple throbbing as the headache began to set in.

She stopped fast walking when the knight did. But she was so nerve-wracked for reasons she couldn't comprehend that she was half-startled when this blonde knight with his sparkling blue eyes laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. His touch was so light, she could barely feel the pressure alight on her half-bare shoulder.

"You're pale." Gino studied her ashen face for a bit.

CC didn't have it in her to _snap_ at him for invading her personal space like this. She just breathed. In and out. In and out. She suddenly hated this gown (doesn't matter how lavish and luxurious it is). She hated this competition. She hated the Emperor. She hated this place.

"Helena." At least the _wretched_ nickname had some use. It called her attention when she was mentally wandering. She blinked and Gino's handsome face came back into clear focus again. His expression was friendly, _kind_ — she dare say. "Whoever Emperor Charles zi Britannia is, remember that he's just a man. But a man who you should treat with the respect his rank demands."

Gino resumed walking again, and she followed. But his pace was slower this time — calmer. "This is just the start of the official competition. It's just a meeting; one that will remind you and the other Candidates of why you're here, what you're going to do, and what you stand to gain." The knight smiled at her. "You're not on trial, okay? There's no throwing you into the execution ring."

She was barely calming down from the distress, but she wasn't comfortable enough around him to dignify his placid words with a response. The person she _needed_ and _wanted_ in situations like this wasn't here. This Knight had no business telling her comforting words when he didn't even _know_ her, _nor_ her _true_ name.

And yet, no matter how much she wished that her Warlock could be here, walking alongside her (the both of them teaming up to _smoke_ this entire farce), she couldn't imagine a fate much worse for him to bear. The poor boy was already in so much hot water with Arobynn after this Summer's fiasco. CC couldn't imagine _luring_ Lelouch into something like _this_. He _hated_ the Empire with all of his being. Making him do this would open up a _different_ avenue of torture. It would be less painful, but it was going to be torture nonetheless.

Breathing in and out steadily now, CC idly wondered where Lelouch was at the moment and what he would be doing. The Guild obviously heard _news_ about her capture. And standard Assassin Brotherhood protocol calls for the captured assassin to be silenced ( _killed_ ) before they could reveal information that would endanger the faction. CC knew she was a valued _possession_ to Arobynn, but would her Master choose her, or the Guild? If the man chose the latter, CC knew Lelouch wouldn't allow the inevitable verdict to pass. It was just the kind of thing the arrogant boy would do.

Because they were friends… Because she grew up and trained alongside him… Because he was everything she never got to have.

It was effective. The thought made her smile…

"When you enter," Gino began, his back straight and his eyes focused on the set of double doors looming closer, "—stop where I stop. Bow — _low_. And when you raise your head to face him, keep it high and stand straight. Don't look the Emperor in the eyes. That would be insolence. If His Majesty asks you a question, address him with proper honorifics. And _do not_ , under any circumstances, talk back. Understood?"

CC caught his glance and shrugged nonchalantly. "I wasn't planning on jeopardizing my chances."

 _That would just be suicide…_

Gino nodded slowly, satisfied with her answer. "They warned me about your mouth." He gave her a lopsided grin. "I'm glad I'm not at the receiving end of it."

The gleam in her bullion eyes was absolutely _dastardly_. " _Yet_." She corrected, lifting a slender finger.

He didn't have time to retort though as the four guards standing sentry to the entrance of the audience chamber saluted the Knight and the gigantic doors swung inwards, revealing an equally large — and mostly empty — room occupied with six other people and six other handlers. She couldn't make out their faces in the distance, but she could recognize the members of the Emperor's Small Council that were present. Schneizel was among their ranks, his face set in a solemn mask.

CC took note of the floors next. White marble, its grayish veins visible in the light of the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows. There were chandeliers and torches _everywhere_ , providing ample amount of illumination.

As Gino stopped in the open space before the red and gold throne, CC noticed that most of the Rounds weren't present like they should be. There were a few of them, to be sure. There was Gino. Bismarck Waldstein was at his designated place as a Council member. A dark-skinned female Knight of the Round stood guard at one end of the dais. And the other brown-haired Knight stood on the left, face as impassive as hers.

She actually recognized him…

Not a Britannian, by any means. But he was one who rose the ranks because he gave up his allegiance to his homeland and served his conqueror _far too well_. But she _never_ noted him for his loyalty rubbish. She had her eye on him because of his rumored prowess in battle.

You didn't exactly earn the nickname of _The White Reaper_ by failing on your sorry ass… No… CC knew he was _good_ , and she was hoping to cross blades with Suzaku Kururugi at some point during 'training.'

CC pulled her gaze forward, all too aware of so many eyes upon her. She dropped into a low bow — as planned, the skirt and train of her gown whispering across the shimmering marble floor. Gino's hand on her back signaled her to rise.

The Knight then proceeded to lead her from the center of the room, where they took up spot beside the rest of the Candidates… where she recognized _him_.

The rest of the chamber seemed to pause as her own mind went into overdrive. Her body, moving on autopilot, followed Gino's careful guidance. But her attention was _elsewhere_. It didn't wander outside of the room by any chance.

No, it just _zeroed_ in on _one_ candidate.

No one else. Just him… Him, with his locks of straight raven hair. Him, with his wiry lean build and familiar stance. Him, and his _piercing_ violet eyes she knew all too well… The lower half of his face was concealed with a mask, but _there was no way he could hide his identity_ from someone who had been with him since childhood.

At the very pit of her stomach, she could feel the previous fuzzy feelings she harbored for thoughts of him sizzle away. The acid that was _fury_ bubbled up _sharply_ and suddenly. After all that she—

 _WHAT THE HELL WAS_ HE _DOING_ HERE _?!_

vVvVv

To Lelouch, it seemed like forever before the no-good Emperor finally spoke, but when he did, boy was he relieved for the distraction it provided.

"Now that you have all _finally_ arrived, perhaps it's time we begin."

Lelouch had heard that booming voice — countless of times before. In slightly vague memories flitting to the surface of his consciousness, the Warlock of Britannia shoved them down. _Deep_ down into the recesses of his soul where they were locked away with more than just bolt and key. In the process of doing so, the young man chewed on the inside of his cheek discreetly. He was trying to ignore _two things_.

One, the nondescript and curious glances he was getting from the rest of the competitors. And two, CC's intensifying glare, _burning_ into the side of his head like a brand…

She had far been too preoccupied with entering the room and appearing _decent_ before the Britannian ruler to notice him. Had she been more alert and aware of her surroundings, she would have seen him immediately. But nevertheless, Lelouch was slightly grateful for the distraction the cavernous chamber and its occupants offered. It granted _him_ enough time to get over his surprise, and school his expression into a more neutral one when the woman sauntered into the room in shimmering finery.

 _Well, she chose an interesting gown…_

He had suspected as much about CC's involvement in this, but he _hadn't_ been _actually_ expecting it to be _true_. In fact, he already had several plans in place to retrieve her safely while he was on this Champion business or other. Hitting two birds with _one_ stone, they would say. But now that she was _actually_ here, and participating too, (honestly, he should've known better), that created a hiccup in his plans. It wasn't one that he couldn't solve easily though.

But Lelouch _was_ curious to know _who_ got CC on board with this. She was lucky… That, he could only say. After this initial meeting was over and done with, he planned to single her out when the chance would arrive so they could have a _long_ talk. He was willing to bet that her story about how she got roped into this mess was as interesting as _his_.

A smirk made his lips curl upwards underneath the mask. The manner in which he had persuaded Ruther had been… _amusing_ , to say the least… Questionable his methods may have been, what mattered was that he was here; he got what he wanted.

"All of you were brought to me from across the realm for the purpose of serving your country." The Emperor spoke with confidence; words unfailing as he took in the _stares_ of every person in the room.

Lelouch took note of the Council members in the room, sitting on lavish chairs behind the Emperor who stood at the podium. All seven had sponsored them. He was curious to know who commissioned who. _He_ was obviously Ruther's bet. But the rest was a mystery. And no surprise, Lelouch _actually_ knew every man and woman in the room with them. Some, he actually met in person before. Others, he had heard of or seen riding through the city streets.

The Emperor's sons and daughters were _all_ dressed in extravagant pieces of clothing, while the other men (non-relations of the royal family) wore waistcoats and cloaks emblazoned with Britannia's national coat of arms — a lion and a snake intertwined over royal blue. The same clothing standards held for the famed Knights of the Round Table too.

Lelouch was honestly _appalled_ to find only _four_ Knights — including Bismarck Waldstein — in the room filled with seven people of _questionable_ loyalty. And he and CC were on top of that list. If they had coordinated beforehand to hijack a meeting like this, they would succeed. The feeble security and sheer _overconfidence_ was going to be the Britannian military's downfall someday. (What was Cornelia even _doing_?)

The Emperor began speaking again as Lelouch pushed thoughts of throwing knives at Charles zi Britannia away from his head. For the record, he _could_ let one fly at the blink of an eye. But that would just be _foolish_.

"You are each competing for the title of my Champion. My sword in a realm filled with enemies — conspirators and traitors."

CC, forgetting Lelouch's _surprise_ appearance in today's meeting for the moment, watched the Emperor closely as his flinty eyes of familiar purple scanned over _each_ of them. Even when that stare met hers, she didn't flinch. But she felt a chill run down her spine. It was definitely a look that said he knew what she had done, and how she had _gotten_ here.

She let her attention alight elsewhere when he looked away. CC took the chance to observe her fellow competitors…

The perverted _degenerates_ weren't even _trying_ to hide how _lewdly_ they gawked at her. Well, some of them were. Others were as stoic as the front she put up. They were an odd bunch, the seven of them… Most of the men were older, but not old enough to be in their thirties yet. They all had bodies that were built and conditioned for fighting. Two of them were _actually_ in chains, and she wanted to know _why._

Were they _that_ dangerous?

She was someone who never judged people's skills by their faces or expressions, but the faces of the two competitors who had fetters around their wrists were quite mild. If looks would be enough to fool her, the two could _definitely_ succeed. One of them stared at her, looked her up and down — the silver-haired one — and CC didn't flinch. The man standing next to one guy with the tanned and pleasant features was broad-shouldered — muscly and grinning from ear to ear when he met her eyes.

And for the gods' sake, there was even a _boy_ younger than her _and_ Lelouch…

By far, this _boy —_ who looked no older than fourteen —was probably the most _deceiving_ of them all. His facade rivaled _hers_. But a young woman could learn to fight and defend herself. A boy — _barely_ a man — was the ridicule among grown men with puffed up pride and a reputation to uphold. He had light brown hair and pale violet eyes. He wasn't paying attention to his other competitors though. The kid merely stared up at the Emperor with blinking seemingly innocent eyes.

Right and then, she resolved to keep a close eye on him too. The sponsor would have picked him for a reason. Dare she say that his capabilities were as _guarded_ as hers.

And speaking of capabilities… What kind of lie did Lelouch feed to his sponsor so he could participate in this?

"Over the next thirteen weeks, each one of you will dwell in my private estate and compete within the walls of this palace. You will train everyday. And once a week, there shall be a test — where one or several of you _can_ be eliminated." That penetrating stare roamed over the crowd again. "They won't be easy; nor will your training. Some of you might even die during the tests. This Competition will be shortened or adjusted depending on the circumstances. And in the week after the Winter Fests, the remaining Champions will face each other to duel. Whoever is left standing will win the Champion title."

Unbeknownst to the rest, both Lelouch and CC twinged at the mention of that accursed title. After all, it really _was_ just a fancy name for the Emperor's murderer. It didn't take a savant to figure out that the Emperor — in the long run — would continue eliminating people in his path for conquest. Innocent or no, if the Britannian ruler would want someone dead, it has to happen.

 _A murderer… That's what he is…_

Lelouch stole a quick glance at the only female in the Competition. The _Emperor_ was the reason why Lelouch was still brave enough to distinguish himself as _human_ — with an intact conscience. This ruler — Britannia's so-called _leader_ — slaughtered _millions_ of lives in his quest for glory. So many innocent races _forced_ to waste away in slavery — their cultures and entire identities dying along with them. So many countries subdued under Imperial rule for the sake of a Crown that won't even last.

Oh, what he wouldn't give for a _clean_ chance to put this man to death _right this instant_.

"Am I understood?" The Emperor asked.

There were nods from each competitor in the room. And even if his own head felt _too_ heavy to _give_ a nod, the Warlock of Britannia did it anyway.

"Speak! Anyone of you! Are you not grateful for this opportunity?" His voice thundered across the hall. Even Lelouch spied one of the Emperor's children flinch.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am honored."

Lelouch heard the redhead — who was Europian — beside him answer. The foreigner's voice melded with the other words of gratitude that left each competitor's lips. The assassin feigned a respectful bow, himself — if only to avoid the trouble. They all missed the 98th Emperor's smug smirk in doing so.

"Well, the following weeks should be very interesting." Someone from the dais cleared his throat, but it went ignored as the Emperor prattled on. "Prove yourselves trustworthy, honor my name and the Holy Britannian Empire, become my Champion; and wealth and glory shall be yours."

 _Thirteen weeks to execute that coup…_

"If there are no other questions," the Emperor said to the Champions and the rest of his Small Council in a tone that suggested he wouldn't think twice of punishing anyone insolent enough to ask, "you have my leave. Do not make the mistake of forgetting why you're here. Travel to my private estate commences at the break of dawn. Now be gone. All of you."

Seven handlers came back to guide the Competitors out of the audience chamber. Lelouch didn't complain against the Seventh Knight prodding the small of his back to get a move on. And although the assassin could _clearly_ see that this Knight wasn't any older than he was and that he would have no qualms taking the official down, Lelouch let him usher their way out. CC was also shuffling out in her gown with the Third Knight — who very well resembled that cliched knight-in-shining-armor trope.

He needed to find a way to speak with her… As soon as permissible.

vVvVv

It was half-past nine in the evening when CC finally decided to retire from an afternoon's leisure at the palace's public library. They depart for the royal family's private villa in Pendragon at the break of dawn, and she sure as hell just _knew_ that the ride there wasn't going to be leisurely.

At least fifty well-trained Imperial guards would escort them there, along with their handlers. And speaking of handler, CC didn't know how to feel about Sir Gino Weinberg being assigned to train her and monitor her progress. She had no doubt Schneizel had chosen him to keep an eye on her.

To have a Knight of the Round monitoring her every move. Was she that unpredictable and dangerous in the Prince's eyes?

They weren't wrong… And it was wise of them to have a Knight of the Round keeping her in line. (Although whether or not Gino could actually stand against her remains to be seen).

The skirts of her dress whispered across the marble floors as she opened the door to her chamber. CC had no idea about the other competitors' living arrangements within the palace walls, but she'd been counting her lucky stars again and again for Schneizel's decision to pamper her. The guest chamber was spacious, and it was divided into three rooms. One was where she could have her meals and read her books and play _harmless_ games. The other was a washroom. And the last room at the end was where she was expected to sleep.

And even though CC didn't feel like sleeping yet, she trudged on towards that final door anyway. Forcing herself to sleep was the better alternative than endlessly ruminating about hers and Lelouch's current situation... And speaking of the latter, she needed to find a way to talk to him.

If they didn't get the chance tomorrow while on the road, then perhaps at Aries Villa. She found a good open spot near the lake where they could talk freely. Open air and flat green grass for miles around meant there was no place for spies to conceal themselves.

"Your guards ought to keep a better eye on the roof."

"What the _sh_ **—"

Lelouch snickered from his spot on the edge of her bed…

Boy, was CC distracted today. Smiling wickedly underneath his usual assassin garb, the Warlock reached back and flipped the hood off of his head. He also removed the mask, giving CC a clear view of his pallid face in the limited illumination provided by the torches on her balcony.

"I could have killed you, you idiot." CC hissed at him, a small knife already held lightly between her fingers, poised for throwing.

He pursed his lips, still trying to fight the smile that threatened to rip his face in half. Her room was dark, and it gave him the perfect opportunity to disguise himself as a shadow. Meanwhile, CC was extremely annoyed that Lelouch beat her by breaking into her room first.

"Where did you get a knife? They de-clawed all of our rooms. At least from what I've noticed in my own room."

CC's smile in the darkness was devoid of any real joy. "Borrowed it from the dining hall."

 _Borrowed._ Sure… Lelouch rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Of course you did."

Crossing the length of the room separating them in a few strides, CC plucked the makeshift weapon out of Lelouch's grasp. She had made it earlier in the day when she had arrived — out of bone hair pins and cloth thread. It was sharp enough to cut a guard's flesh, distracting them long enough for her to steal their weapons and run (if there was a sudden commotion that demanded she escape).

"A little explanation is overdue, don't you think?" She folded her arms across her chest after she finished lighting the bedside lamps.

In the low firelight, Lelouch's scowl was apparent. "I should be the one demanding an explanation out of _you_. What the hell happened with that mission back there? Did you not have an inkling that you were walking into a trap? How were you roped into this Champion business? Who sponsored you?"

CC understood that there was a lot to explain. She truly did… But the way Lelouch prattled off his questions one by one was far too rapid that the story she had been prepared to tell him was scattered in a matter of seconds.

"Arobynn wasn't pleased with the news. Asahina and Tamaki proposed we follow protocol. Arobynn thought twice for a second, but conceded, in the end."

She chuckled mockingly to herself. "Why am I not surprised? I assume you vetoed my almost near-death experience."

It was meant to be a joke, but in the dim firelight, Lelouch's face was grim with no humor. "I offered to retrieve you from the Imperial dungeons. Miraculously, I escaped unscathed when you weren't there."

Lelouch subconsciously went on to explain how he moved on to planning on interrogating the Emperor's advisor — the man she was sent to dispatch that day. He explained how one thing led to another; how he discovered the Emperor's plans through Ruther Stadtfeld's illegitimate daughter, whom he found loitering and fighting for coin in the Vaults.

The assassin smirked at the memory of Ruther's so-called test. He had approached Stadtfeld under the guise of a mercenary who had heard and seen word of this 'job opening.' Ruther invited him into his home's spacious foyer, asking him to deposit his weapons at the entrance to a sentry standing guard. He had complied without hesitation to sell his lies, but he realized the _test_ soon enough when Ruther snapped his fingers and half-a-dozen men came at him all at once.

The assassin had no trouble beating them all unconscious or bruised and bloody. He could still remember the taste of blood in his own tongue as Kallen's father had grinned at him roguishly, six well-built men sprawled across the polished stone floors of Stadtfeld's home. He could have sworn he could see the gears turning in the man's head. His dreams of victory and gold were _practically_ too vivid.

Without much preamble, he had commissioned Lelouch immediately — under his pretend name, Zero — of course.

"A quite telling tale for a fantasy book, Warlock." CC was smirking as she tried to hide her _real_ smile; amused that Lelouch had abandoned his interrogation for her in favor of telling his own story.

So he did a lot to retrieve her, did he? How quaint…

"But that still doesn't explain _why_ you decided to join the Emperor's competition in the first place. If your only goal is to retrieve me, then you getting involved in this whole business is but a waste of time." CC frowned.

She would have simply written off his choices as a product of boredom, or something he did for the sake of finding more interesting things to do with his time, or to get away from Arobynn. Perhaps it was all three. She would have disregarded other reasons if Lelouch were _that_ kind of person… But he _wasn't._ Because for as long as CC had known him, she knew he was conniving. He did _everything_ for a reason — even dispatch missions, although he wouldn't tell her why.

 _This_ was definitely part of that giant _why_ …

There were things he wasn't telling her… And while it wasn't in her nature to pry into things that had _nothing to do with her_ , Lelouch's hidden motives were beginning to encompass _her_. And if her person was involved — in one way or another — there was _no way_ she was going to jump into something completely blind.

"Your explanations have fallen short." CC droned, keeping her pretty bullion eyes locked on his face wreathed in shadows.

Lelouch's answering smile was infuriating, but CC didn't retaliate. That would just be giving him the satisfaction of getting on her nerves. And when she could help it, she didn't like giving the upper hand.

"I was honestly waiting for you to call me out on it." The ring on his finger caught the meager fire light and glinted in the dark. "All these years…" He trailed off, his eyes distant, but they focused again when he said, "I _do_ have more to tell you. It's just… This isn't the place."

CC didn't like the way he phrased that, but conceded. For now at least…

"So, do I get _your_ end of the story, or do I have to wait for the day death comes to claim my body?"

CC rolled her eyes. He can be _so_ dramatic…

She opted to tell him, but then again—

"I'm not sure if I should tell you _here_." She flashed him her lovely smile, clasping her hands behind her back and swaying side to side, feigning girlish innocence. "There are things you can't tell me _now_. Well, that goes for me too."

The glare Lelouch sported was enough to _kill_. (If glares _could_ kill, that is).

" _Witch._ " He seethed through clenched teeth, wary of the fact that they shouldn't cause a commotion warranting everybody's attention.

CC nodded happily, making a mockery of his disappointment. "Yes. Yes I am."

"CC—"

She cut him off with a _loud_ yawn, tossing herself onto the bed and curling up against one of her fluffy pillows.

"Oi." He prodded her nightgown-clad shoulder.

Her response was to turnover so her back was facing him instead. She had honestly been looking forward to this talk. But now that Lelouch was holding back some _important_ details, she didn't feel like indulging her earlier eagerness anymore. She didn't feel like entertaining _him_. Period. They once joked about how his curiosity was going to be the death of him someday. Well, the _arrogant_ boy could _stew_ in his insatiable curiosity for a few good _hours_. And in those hours, he could wallow in regret and self-pity for keeping important secrets from her.

CC normally didn't _care_ , but this one though— It felt important. And from the way he spoke just now, she could tell that it _definitely_ was. And it involved _her_.

"CC."

She growled under her breath. She needed _sleep_. _Now_. "Go back to wherever hole you slithered from, boy."

Lelouch fell silent for a few seconds, mulling over CC's words, and watching her closely as her resolve hardened. So she was intent on ignoring him now, was she?

It wasn't forever, but he honestly wanted to know how she landed herself in this mess. But then again, he _had_ kept something from her — in favor of it all being kept secret. So perhaps her denying him the privilege of knowing her reasoning and how this came to be was justifiable. For now.

But still—

He sighed deeply.

"I thought you left already." Came her slightly disembodied voice.

"Is this how you repay the man who saved your life from traitorous assassins?"

Her shoulders moved in the dim light — a shrug. But she didn't say a word…

 _He_ did _save her life… In more ways than one._

CC's resolve was weakening, and she was about to sit up and tell him, but then she heard him sigh deeply. The sound was followed by the feel of a weight leaving the edge of the bed.

"Never mind… We can have a better conversation at the Villa."

She had her back turned to him, so she couldn't see his expression. And she couldn't decipher the emotion behind his tone either. Was he disappointed? Angry? Indifferent?

CC wanted to know, but for the life of her, she couldn't find it in her to get up, turn around, and rectify her mistake. Did she just start a fight?

"I need to know one thing though." He spoke again, his voice subdued and quieter than before. "Do you still promise?"

CC's half-lidded eyes widened just a fraction for a few seconds before she buried her face further into her pillow.

"I promise." Was the slightly muffled reply, but clear enough for the other person in the room to hear.

A few seconds passed, enough for CC to know that her only friend had left the room as quietly as he had come. There was only the whisper of wind on the open windows — his only sign of entry and exit.

"Thank you, Lelouch."

Unbeknownst to CC, Lelouch smiled from his perch on the windowsill — just about to leave her room, really. She was obviously too embarrassed to admit her mistake. The girl had been through too much. And this was probably enough for one night.

So he let her whisper her gratitude into what she assumed was a then empty room. In exchange, he got to relish her sweet words spoken timidly as it drifted into his ears.

He wanted to cross the bed chamber to go to her. He wanted to _do_ something, but what? He honestly wanted to squeeze her hand reassuringly, but thought better of it and left for his own room, instead.

vVvVv

She was supposed to be asleep… Her body hadn't fully recovered from the beating it had received last night. She usually didn't mind jumping back into the chaos of the Vaults after a grueling fight, but last night's match with Zero had been _taxing_ — to say the least.

She would never tell him _that_ , of course.

Kallen resolved to stay in bed to rest and recuperate today, and even then she still felt like it wasn't enough.

She honestly had no clue if her father was home at the moment. Or her stepmother for that matter. The two could have been out and about in the city, delighting in the frivolous luxuries aristocratic life provided them. She would have gone, out of obligation too, but Kallen had feigned being too sick to get out of bed today.

And she was glad…

There was _no way_ she could have concentrated on being Kallen Stadtfeld for a time with her bruise dotted face and over-occupied head.

For the past few hours, she had been mulling over Zero's proposition. Turning it over and over and over in her head, inspecting every angle for any sign of a con. There were a few; like having to lead a double life — though she did that already. There was also the matter of hiding things from her father. Everyone knew that cooperating with mutiny was a crime punishable by death. Court trial be damned!

But the pros… The pros _outweighed_ the cons considerably. She had yet to know how long the Competition would last, but it couldn't be for more than six months or a year at the most. And because Zero told her he was planning to execute his plan _during_ the Competition, then she only had a few months to help out and finally sail back to Nippon where her _real_ family was.

Kallen groaned, turning over in her feather mattress to stare at the canopy above her. Soft cotton sheets against her bare skin, the redhead flinched slightly when her skimming fingers met with a stiff piece of paper.

It didn't help that she knew exactly what her hand brushed against…

Bringing the piece of valuable parchment to her face until she was almost cross-eyed, Kallen glared at the signature, at the wax seal next to the depositor's name, and at the blank space that was screaming at her to fill it out with the _exact_ amount of money she needed to cross the four seas and then some.

" _Kallen, do you believe that in life, certain sacrifices have to be made for the sake of the greater good?"_

" _I want Britannia gone as much as you do. And even though this offer is too soon for our level of acquaintance, I believe you would be a valuable addition to my secret coup."_

" _You hate your father, don't you? And wouldn't you want to see your mother much sooner?"_

" _Name the reasonable amount and it's yours…"_

Clear ocean blue eyes drifted to scrutinize the scrap of paper again…

If she said no, wouldn't he most likely kill her?

She was no assassin, like he was. But after betraying a dark secret to someone, offering them a proposal, and _then_ having a part of his plan fail, the risk of having somebody out of the inner circle knowing was too great. To keep his secrets, he would have to _kill her_.

No amount of swearing that she'd be silent would keep her safe…

She didn't know Zero. Not _truly_. But he seemed like the kind of man who didn't like things going out of his way. He probably wouldn't even blink an eye if he sent someone or if he, himself, would put a blade through her heart.

 _Gods, he_ blackmailed _me, didn't he?_

Zero offered the bait, and she was the fool who walked into the trap. With such a simple ultimatum, too. But then again, it didn't even look like much of a decision on her end. Kallen didn't need to choose sides… She'd already _chosen_ from the moment she was cruelly taken out of her _real_ home.

In all honesty, she had very little to lose and much to gain from this deal…

With a groan and slight protest from her still smarting bottom, Kallen grabbed the pen out of her bedside table, scribbled her name on the banknote, and sold her allegiance for ten thousand pieces of Britannian gold.


End file.
